Choosing Family
by SapphireQuill'sFic
Summary: Even Slytherin cunning can't anticipate all possibilities, and Draco Malfoy must turn to Harry Potter for help. Severus Snape and Remus Lupin help them deal with the consequences... a seventh year bonding fic. WIP.
1. Prologue & notes

Author notes:

_Officially, this story should be canon through _Order of the Phoenix_ but AU after that. As far as _Half-Blood Prince_ is concerned, it's probably best to assume that the characters, etc. exist, but I'll be ignoring the plot almost entirely. _

_All rights to the world of _Harry Potter _belong to J.K. Rowling and a number of very large corporations, and I am neither Jo nor am I in anyway affiliated with any of said companies: ergo, I in no way, shape, or form own the creative entities with which I am playing. In addition, I have not made nor do I intend to make any money whatsoever from this endeavour._

_I must also acknowledge debts to Aspen in the Sunlight, Beren, Vorabiza, and – most particularly – GatewayGirl for their treatment for the different aspects of the Snape/Harry/Draco dynamics. Their stories have become so ingrained in my subconscious that I am not certain I could completely eliminate their influence._

_Particular thanks must be given to Tithenai, Malefi, and Phoenix Writing, who are making this a much better story in both style and content. Thanks also to Múirn for taking several years of Latin and being willing to share her knowledge. Any mistakes which remain are, indubitably, my own. _

_Regarding this story specifically – for reasons which will become obvious, I have had to make Draco younger than Harry and move Draco's birthday to the winter holidays. Initially, I chose December 13th specifically because it is the same as the lovely Tithenai's, though there were additional benefits which presented themselves afterwards. This change will, of course, create conflict with Hermione's age as well. Unless I am required to solve this in the future, you are welcome to assume that Draco was enrolled early because he is exceptionally gifted or because his father demanded it or that Hermione is a year younger than she is in canon._

_A couple of warnings - this story is driven by character rather than plot, so the action is slow moving, and I have no plans to explore romantic relationships in the story as I have plotted it. Should that change, I can guarantee that if and when I do so, there will be slash. If that bothers you, feel free to turn around now. I am, regrettably, an undisciplined writer and a procrastinator (both of which I am trying to change!), so updates will be infrequent.  
_

_What follows is more of a teaser than anything else; the subsequent chapters are much longer, I promise! Any reviews, particularly constructive criticism, are much appreciated._

Originally posted 29 Nov. '05; edited version posted 17 Mar. '06

**Choosing Family**

**Prologue**

When he heard the knock on his office door, Severus Snape closed his eyes and wasted precious seconds entertaining the futile hope that the headmaster had decided to descend the multiple staircases and walk the long halls to the dungeons – for the exercise, perhaps? – rather than simply sending a message to his Potions master.

"Enter."

When the door opened to reveal that Snape's visitor was indeed Draco Malfoy, he had the fleeting thought that he would rather a lifetime of attempting to teach Neville Longbottom the subtleties of potion-making than have the conversation to follow and deal with the consequences thereof.

"Good afternoon, Professor." Malfoy's voice was even despite the fact that the youth was nearly vibrating with tension. To most observers, however, it would be unclear whether the tension was caused by nervousness, excitement, or fear.

"Mr. Malfoy."

Snape waited until Malfoy had entered the room and closed the door before securing his office, casting locking and silencing spells on the door, the portraits, and the fireplace and then general incantations which would reveal any spells or objects which could be used for eavesdropping or recording. Both sneak-o-scope and foe-glass were clearly visible on the desk.

"Mother met me in Hogsmeade this morning. She wanted to speak privately. "

"I _told_ the old man it was too dangerous. Ministry aurors may be sufficient protection for Gryffindor recklessness, but they will do little for Slytherin self-preservation. While – preventable," he continued with a glare that would have been extraordinarily painful for its target, had it been able to pass through walls, "it is not unanticipated. We can –" He stopped when Draco began shaking his head.

"No, we can't. There's a... complication."

"Complication?" Not a word one wants to hear when one is attempting to circumvent the machinations of Lucius Malfoy.

"He... It wasn't... there was a portkey. It's begun"

He crossed the room quickly. "Are you alright?" Draco attempted to avoid his professor's scrutiny, but Snape raised his chin and met his eyes. The boy nodded, though the lie was betrayed by his obvious fear.

"My father... didn't perform the incantation... himself. It was..."

As the Malfoy heir, Draco was too well-trained to stammer without extreme provocation, and Severus inhaled sharply. "The Dark Lord."

Another nod, resigned. "And he accepted _Prīncipium_ in Parseltongue."


	2. Hogsmeade Saturday

_All rights to the world of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling and a number of very large corporations, and I am neither Jo nor am I in anyway affiliated with any of said companies: ergo, I in no way, shape, or form own the creative entities with which I am playing. In addition, I have not made nor do I intend to make any money whatsoever from this endeavour._

_Particular thanks must be given to Tithenai, Malefi, and Phoenix Writing, who are making this a much better story in both style and content. Any mistakes which remain are, indubitably, my own._

_Detailed author notes can be found before the prologue._

Originally posted 8 Dec. '05; edited version posted 17 Mar. '06

**Hogsmeade Saturday**

Harry Potter didn't think there was a more gratifying phrase in the English language than 'Hogsmeade Saturday.' _Well, perhaps 'Hogsmeade Saturday after defeating Voldemort and soundly trouncing Slytherin for the Quidditch cup.'_ Sadly, though, that phrase wasn't used very often. However, Gryffindor _had_ defeated Slytherin – several weeks ago and largely because the snitch decided to swerve right rather than left but defeated nonetheless – and Voldemort had been relatively quiet, at least for the last couple of weeks, so he decided to take what he could get and make the most of it.

He was particularly enjoying this Hogsmeade trip – the stores festively decorated with garlands and candles, the carollers singing, the snow lightly falling. Last year, Harry had been hit with a hex in a meeting of the DA which had reacted _very_ badly with a potion he'd tested in class earlier in the afternoon. As a result, not only had he missed the Hogsmeade trip, but he'd also spent the latter half of November and all of December in the hospital wing, missing the Christmas feast and most of the holidays, as well, since Madam Pomfrey had frowned on both large groups and long visits.

Pleased with the gift he had purchased for Hermione, Harry wove his way through the crowds of people in Dervish and Bangs towards the door, _Another advantage of Ron and Hermione finally admitting they are mad for each other_, Harry thought, _is that they've managed to keep each other occupied while I found presents for the both of them_.

Ron and Hermione had been dancing around each other for years without actually doing anything about it. The betting pool – arranged by the twins, of course – had reached unprecedented amounts as they continued to face obstacles: Ron's density, Hermione's pride, their mutual obstinacy. They had finally been forced to admit their feelings for each other during the winter holidays of their sixth year. Harry had urged his friends to take advantage of his inability to leave the hospital wing to give Ron and Ginny a chance to experience life with Muggles, and the two youngest Weasleys were invited to spend the last week of holidays with the Grangers. Ginny got along splendidly with Hermione's Muggle cousin who lived nearby, leaving Ron and Hermione to spend a great deal of time together, and New Year's Eve was apparently the end of their denial. They still refused to tell Harry the whole story, but for weeks after their return the words 'broom-cupboard' or 'orange' had made them blush, and while Ron glared at Crookshanks in a way that he hadn't done since the Scabbers incident of third year, Harry'd caught him surreptitiously feeding the half-kneazle in the common room on more than one occasion.

Finding a Christmas gift for Ron had been relatively easy. Despite consoling himself about having to use yet another family hand-me-down by claiming that Bill's keeper gloves were 'lucky,' he was certainly going to need newer ones if he wanted a chance at playing professionally after graduation. His game had become much more consistent with two years' practice, and the professional scouts who were coming to Gryffindor games and practices to see Harry play were staying to watch Ron.

The new gloves were sufficiently costly that there was no way Ron would accept them if they had come solely from Harry, so he had gotten Ginny and the Weasley twins to agree to getting the gloves as a gift from the four of them together. After hearing what the twins claimed they were intending to get for their younger brother, Harry thought that the plan itself may have been a better gift to Ron than the gloves. He and Ginny had selected a pair, and as part of her share she had been elected responsible for transporting them back to Hogwarts, wrapping them, and hiding them until Christmas, an arrangement Harry was more than happy to endorse.

His female best friend had been a bit more difficult to select a gift for, since Harry refused to punish himself by supporting her obsessive study habits. He had been very tempted to simply walk in to the bookstore and ask for the largest, dustiest book they had, but that had been his solution for several gifts over the past two years, and while it was a very successful approach, he thought it best to attempt something different occasionally.

There had been several possibilities in Scrivenshaft's, but nothing had seemed quite right until he'd found a wizarding music box in Dervish and Bangs. It was rectangular, not very large, and made of a highly polished cherry wood; moreover, it could even be charmed to play Muggle music.

Hermione had been named Head Girl, to the surprise of absolutely no one, and claimed to be thrilled to have a quiet room of her own in which to study. Harry had been confused a couple of weeks into term, therefore, when she had begun spending more time in the common room despite being clearly frustrated by the antics of the younger students while preparing for her more difficult NEWTs. Several weeks, a couple of comments, and one illuminating conversation with Ginny later, Harry realized that Hermione found her private room a little _too_ quiet. The music box, Harry hoped, would provide background noise without being distracting.

The panel on the top of the music box was designed to hold a photo, and Harry was certain that without much effort he would be able to convince Colin to part with one of the many pictures he had taken over the years of Ron, Hermione, and himself to put there.

The easiest gift to find, by far, would be Ginny's: being the youngest of seven and the only girl, she had created a long, detailed list, complete with the colour, size, and cost of each item, as well as where it could be purchased. When asked, Ron had given him a copy, and Harry had discovered that one of the boys had Charmed it to update itself, crossing off items that had been claimed by others. After a closer look, he'd also been reminded of Ginny's sadistic streak.

Under no circumstances was he going to get her a Harry Potter action figure.

When Harry had turned seventeen this past summer, he had discovered the downside to being an adult: he no longer had the luxury of trust funds and caretakers when it came to protection from the merchandisers of the wizarding world. Being neither an escaped criminal nor the headmaster of Hogwarts meant most people believed he was easier to approach and to manipulate. While this was partially true in that people were aware he spent the school year at Hogwarts, he did have good advisors, not to mention a mind of his own. Unfortunately, in light of his less than immaculate reputation – due largely to the rumours spread by the _Daily Prophet_ – as much as he would like to, the PR nightmare that would ensue if he were to refuse altogether would be disastrous. Since Fudge had been removed from office and replaced by Amelia Bones, the reputation of the Ministry of Magic was improving, but it was not yet what it should be, and the wizarding world was happy with their vision of Harry as the symbol for the 'side of light.' Both Dumbledore and Madam Bones had spoken with him on the subject, and after a great deal of agonizing, he'd decided he could stand the humiliation of a few carefully controlled interviews and a limited selection of products.

The only benefit to the entire 'business' was that it had created a legitimate way to pay Remus his stipend from the Black vaults.

When Sirius had died, he'd officially left everything to his godson. Letters to Remus and Harry had explained that he didn't want to make things worse for Remus, who had enough difficulties as a werewolf without being accused of fraternizing with a convicted criminal, but he had intended to split the inheritance between them, and Remus should shut up and take it. Remus, of course, hadn't, but he'd been hired as Harry's representative in making any decisions regarding what could be produced and managing the entire enterprise. He also supervised the distribution of the profits made from the sales to assorted charities, and the amount Remus had been willing to accept was far less than what the average firm would charge for the same duties. However, since Remus was living in the newly redecorated house on Grimmauld Place, and Harry refused to accept any rent – someone had to keep an eye on Kreacher, after all – Remus was adamant.

Harry still had a while before he was expected to meet Ron and Hermione at the Three Broomsticks, so with Ginny's list in hand, he headed up towards the centre of Hogsmeade. His destination was a small curiosity shop which had recently opened next to the post office, a place called Siren's Song. He would be looking for – he checked once more to be certain – a purple and orange bullfrog alarm clock, 20 centimetres high (2g, 6s, 3k). As he entered the store, he realized that even with Ginny's careful instructions, he was out of his depth. The store was a riot of colour and shapes, with objects covering every flat surface, dangling from the shelves, flying across the ceiling, and crawling along the floor.

He looked around for a moment, then headed directly towards the counter in search of an employee. The witch behind the counter, who looked rather like Trelawney must have when she was young, seemed to know exactly what Ginny wanted once he read off his instructions and offered to retrieve one for him. He accepted gratefully and moved aside from the counter to look at the items on the wall while he waited.

His attention was almost immediately drawn to a small sculpture, about 10cm square. It was carved in a grey and black stone, which, upon reading the card next to it, he discovered was actually something called 'snowflake obsidian'. A wolf and cub were curled up into each other, and the expression on the adult wolf as he looked down on the cub was one of such intensity and love that Harry caught his breath. He started slightly as the cub opened his eyes and stretched before leaping on some invisible prey. The younger continued to run in circles for a few moments while the older watched indulgently. Harry almost missed the paw that snuck out to trip the cub, causing him to collapse in a heap against his assailant. The cub seemed to grin at Harry as he panted for a moment before settling back into his nap. The adult wolf gave Harry an amused glance before he gazed back at the cub, returning them to their original position.

He was so caught up in his examination that he did not notice Ron and Hermione had found him until Ron placed a hand on his shoulder. Harry managed to control his impulse to defend himself but vowed to pay more attention in the future.

"What's got you so preoccupied, Harry? I called your name four times."

He pointed at the carving, "The wolves – they're... compelling."

Ron looked at the black and white canines – the cub was running in circles again – and shrugged as if to say, 'they're ok,' but Hermione asked, "What do you mean, 'compelling'?"

"I don't know; I just feel like I'm supposed to have it."

Hermione pulled out her wand, aimed it at the sculpture, and muttered something Harry couldn't hear. "Well, there aren't any compulsion spells on it, or anything else for that matter, other than the animation charm."

Ron looked at her askance, as though he couldn't believe she thought any respectable store would do such a thing, but Harry was grateful – too many strange and dangerous things happened to him as it was.

The shop girl returned just then with Ginny's bullfrog – possibly the most hideous thing Harry had ever seen – and offered, "If you'd like, we can add standard protection and well-being charms to any of our item at no additional cost."

"Yes, please, on that, and this one as well," he said, pointing to the wolves.

"Do you need us to disappear for a bit, Harry?" Hermione asked while they were waiting for the parcels to be wrapped. "I know we're early."

"No, you're both done." He grinned at the speculative glances they sent towards his bags, "and your gifts have been sent to the castle." His friends knew that there was no need to worry about any sneaky tactics when it came to the gifts they'd bought for him: he'd finally grown secure enough in their friendship to know to expect them, but receiving presents was still sufficiently rare that he savoured the expectation as much as the actual items.

Despite it being nearly noon, the trio of Gryffindors decided that they were not yet ready to eat, so they took advantage of the opportunity to head to the bookstore, figuring that grumbling stomachs would remind them to leave if Hermione became too engrossed in the selection.

Harry had to admit, at least to himself, that he couldn't be certain how much of his enjoyment of the wizarding village came from the village itself and how much was derived from how different his life was here than in Surrey – or anywhere else he spent his summer holidays. In Hogsmeade, he had, within the usual bounds set for adolescents, the chance to wander where he liked, purchase what he wanted, and associate with whomever he wanted. _And the ministry aurors, who – let's be honest – are supervising the students because I'm here, are better than the Dursleys or Dudley's gang and not nearly as restricting as life at Grimmauld Place_. It was a sense of freedom he had experienced only once before, in Diagon Alley just before third year.

As it turned out, the only one of the three to purchase anything at the bookshop was Harry. He'd found a first edition of a text that Remus had mentioned particularly admiring while the two of them had been wading through the books in the Black library and decided it would make the perfect gift for the older man.

The Three Broomsticks was predictably full, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione were greeted enthusiastically by a table of their house-mates loitering over the end of their meal. The hum of the students' excited chatter was disrupted briefly when Narcissa Malfoy descended the staircase in search of her son. None of the aurors there seemed surprised to see her, and she glided past them as though her husband were the Minister for Magic rather than a dangerous fugitive. After a few words with her son which Harry, unfortunately, could not hear, Crabbe and Goyle wandered off to join a number of upper level Slytherins sitting near the rear exit, and the Malfoys withdrew upstairs.

Aside from a rather loud crash from a table of Ravenclaws, the remainder of their lunch was uneventful, and Harry very much enjoyed the opportunity to socialize with his friends. The omnipresent bodyguards and his curiosity about what was happening upstairs, however – in the time it had taken Harry and his friends to enjoy a leisurely meal neither Draco nor his mother had returned to the main room – kept him from being able to relax fully. _The Mystery of the Missing Malfoys... _it sounded like a book Dudley would have owned as a child, but Harry would have given a great deal to know what they were doing.

"_Harry_."

Ron's tone and Hermione's concerned expression told him that yet again they had said his name more than once, and he shook his head to clear it.

"Sorry – caught up in my own thoughts, I guess." He noticed that Madam Rosemerta had returned with their change, and his friends had their cloaks and parcels in hand. He stood and gave them a reassuring grin as he gathered his own belongings. "Ready to finish shopping, then?"

"Not really," moaned Ron, "It's the last Hogsmeade trip before the hols, and I still have no idea what to get m'mum."

Harry grinned with the gloating of a man who had already gotten gifts for everyone on his Christmas list and followed his friends – currently bickering about Ron's tendency to procrastinate – out of the pub.

Several hours later, all three of them had finished their shopping with better than expected success and were headed back to the castle. As they passed the Three Broomsticks, Harry noticed that while Draco was nowhere to be seen, Narcissa Malfoy was speaking with Tonks on the steps of the pub.

The relationship between the two women had never been cordial but had reached a new low in the last year and a half. With the last male of the House of Black declared officially dead, Draco Malfoy was the heir to the Black legacy, and Narcissa had mounted a lavish court battle to have Sirius's will overturned and the entirety of the Black fortunes awarded to Draco.

Unfortunately for the Malfoys, capture of the Death Eaters in the Ministry had provided several witnesses for the defence – including Lucius Malfoy himself, much to his wife's annoyance – who could testify to the innocence of Sirius Black. The Wizengamot did, however, acknowledge Draco's status as the Black heir, and a settlement was decided upon which placed anything which was entailed to the estate in a trust for him, to be managed by Nymphadora Tonks, an Auror and a respected member of the Black line, in conjunction with Albus Dumbledore, representative of the Wizengamot and Draco's guardian during the school year, and a representative chosen by Gringotts.

Fortunately for the Order of the Phoenix, the house on Grimmauld Place and Kreacher were not entailed.

The trust was arranged so as to be explicitly inaccessible by Lucius and Narcissa. Their son received a stipend which was sufficiently large that Malfoy did not seem terribly hampered by being restricted to it, which was fortunate, since the majority of Malfoy assets had been frozen shortly thereafter and were being monitored by Wizengamot and Gringotts. The family Malfoy was certainly not impoverished, but the receipts were being carefully tracked, making it much more difficult to siphon funds to support certain Dark Lords. It meant that Tonks was forced to endure repeated confrontations with her aunt who – rightly, Harry had to admit – saw her as the trustee most likely to concede. Even so, 'most likely' did not mean she would.

"You forget something, mate?"

"What?" Harry noticed that while he had stopped to stare, Ron and Hermione had not, and they were well ahead of him. He quickly caught up but recognized the look on Hermione's face and knew that he would need to tell her something.

As they crossed through the gates onto the Hogwarts grounds, Hermione turned to Harry. "You've been distracted all day. Is everything all right?" Her eyes flicked up to his scar.

"Just thinking about how much I enjoy being in Hogsmeade and how thankful I am for crowded trains and wayward trolls." It wasn't a _complete_ lie; he had been thinking that earlier.

"We like you, too, Harry," Ron replied with a grin, but Hermione's gaze sharpened. "Are you certain you're going to be alright over the holidays?" she asked earnestly.

Harry sighed dramatically. "We've had this conversation already." His obvious desire to avoid repeating it went unheeded as the exasperated glance he expected to share with Ron was instead met with an intent look.

Ron's "Are you sure you don't want to come to the Burrow with us, mate?" collided with Hermione's "Because we can stay here with you if you'd like."

"I am absolutely fine with the two of you going to the Burrow while I stay here. Dumbledore said he's expecting some qualified instructors to stay at the castle over the holidays – members of the Order, I expect – to do some additional training with me." He laughed at Hermione's unsuccessful attempt to hide her envy. "And I promise to share everything I learn, so you can't use me as your excuse. I don't know why you're so nervous; you've already met the in-laws."

While Ron punched him lightly and turned beet red, Hermione huffed and glared at him.

In exchange for having Ron and Ginny visit the Grangers last year, Hermione and Harry had been invited to the Burrow for Christmas. Harry had discussed the matter with the headmaster and decided that, given the additional safety precautions that would have to be taken for him to have gone, he would rather not make things more stressful. This was especially true since Bill and Fleur would be getting married over the holidays, and the Burrow was expected to be beyond full as it was. The wedding was also the primary reason for Hermione's tension about the visit. The questions about the status of her relationship with Ron – and when they expected to have their own wedding – had already begun and were increasing as time passed.

"Besides," he added cheerfully, "I think one of the people coming to train me might be Moony."

The conversation drifted back to innocuous and lighthearted topics as they made their way up the path to the school. Before the three Gryffindors had finished crossing the castle lawn, Hagrid met them with the message that Harry was to go directly to the Headmaster's office.

Once Harry had given the password – Sugar Quill – and the gargoyle had moved aside, Harry rode the staircase with some trepidation. Since whatever this meeting was about couldn't wait until Monday morning when he had a training session with Dumbledore scheduled during his free period, and he hadn't done anything – _at least_, he amended with a mental grin, _I haven't been caught doing anything_ – worthy of a scolding, the topic was likely to be something unexpected and awful or unexpected and nice. _And given that it's me_, Harry sighed as he knocked on the door on the landing, _I know which one I'd put money on_.

When Harry opened the door to find the Headmaster sitting on a love seat with a tea service before him and Professor Snape standing by the mantle, glowering into the fire, he increased his mental bet. _Definitely something awful_.

"Welcome, Harry. Please, have a seat."

As he moved towards one of the large, comfortable chairs flanking the love seat – as far from the scowling Potions professor as he could possibly get – Harry noticed the rather large plate of sandwiches on the table and braced himself for what was likely to be a very long and difficult conversation.

_Next chapter: the plot!_


	3. Madness of Ancestry

_All rights to the world of _Harry Potter_ belong to J.K. Rowling and a number of very large corporations, none of which is me, and I do not intend to make any money whatsoever from this endeavour._

_Particular thanks must be given to my lovely Betas Tithenai and Phoenix Writing, who have helped make this a much better story in both style and content. Any mistakes which remain are, indubitably, my own. Thanks also to Múirn for taking several years of Latin and being willing to share her knowledge and to Kirinin for her helpful reviews and gentle prodding – I've never been happy with this chapter and decided, eventually, that it was necessary to post and move on, intending to return when the story was complete. Kirinin convinced me that the revisions would be needed earlier than that._

_Additional notes are available before the prologue._

_Warnings for this chapter: excessive amounts of detail_

Originally posted 28 Dec. '05; edited version posted 13 Dec. '07

**Madness of Ancestry**

or, Dumbledore channels Egeon+

The tension was practically a visible entity, stalking silently around the room. The headmaster dispensed tea and asked about Harry's day with eyes that were serious and twinkle-free, while Snape scowled at the fire with a ferocity that was extraordinary, even for him. In preparation for what was to come, Harry began Occluding his mind as tightly as he could. It was not so much the protection of his thoughts that concerned him as the distancing of his emotions. When both Snape and Dumbledore were in danger of losing their composure, there was little chance that Harry would be able to remain calm and focussed; beginning with the emotional detachment and dispassion of an Occluded mind would be his only chance.

After the incident in the Ministry in fifth year, Harry had spent a great deal of time dwelling on the many ways in which Sirius's death had been his fault. In retrospect, Harry was glad that he had been at the Dursleys in the aftermath. As a result of the warnings given by the Order, both times his temper got the better of him – with significantly less breakage than in Dumbledore's office, thankfully – he'd been given a comparatively short lecture and restricted to his room, with meals. Not much of a punishment, really, since that was all he'd been doing anyway, and his withdrawal was not only tolerated but encouraged by his relatives. He wasn't sure he'd have had any friends left if they had witnessed firsthand his weeks of working through grief and guilt. By the time he'd returned to Grimmauld Place, though, he'd realized that if the events at the Ministry had been his fault, he needed to find a way to prevent them from happening again. He'd approached Dumbledore on the subject and was unsurprised – disappointed, but unsurprised – to learn that the headmaster continued to be unable to teach him, and the only other qualified instructor was Severus Snape. Harry, resigned, had agreed to try again; unfortunately, Snape had not. Dumbledore had chided, and Harry had apologized for both the incident with the Pensieve and his attitude, but the Potions master had remained unmoved. It was not until Snape had delivered the Wolfsbane Potion to Remus, and they had been cloistered in the library at Grimmauld Place for over an hour that he had decided to relent. Harry had no idea what had been said, but since then, Snape's attitude had shown a marked improvement, at least with respect to Harry. They had even managed to build a relationship, careful and deliberate, within which they could work, and Harry had finally managed the basics of Occlumency.

Once Harry had assured Dumbledore that the weather in Hogsmeade had been exceptionally pleasant for so late in November, that the escort of Aurors had not been detrimental to his enjoyment of the day – at which Snape had snorted – and that he had indeed managed to complete his Christmas shopping, the headmaster fixed Harry with a piercing gaze which seemed to indicate the end of the pleasantries. The significance behind his next words, however, escaped Harry.

"I believe you were in the Three Broomsticks at lunch today when Narcissa Malfoy asked her son to join her in one of the private rooms on the upper level?"

He hadn't seen Malfoy since, he remembered, and wondered what had happened. "Yes, sir," he replied cautiously, "but I didn't hear what she said." If that was why he'd been summoned, it would be a very short meeting.

Dumbledore nodded absently and made it clear to Harry that that _wasn't_ the reason. "She told her son she had a message for him from his father. What she in fact gave him was a Portkey which took him to Malfoy Manor where Lucius Malfoy and Voldemort were waiting for him."

Harry was unable to contain the sharp intake of breath he made in response to that information, and Snape was clearly not in the mood to let his interjection go unnoticed.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Potter?"

"No – I just thought... He's been different this year, quieter... I thought he was smarter than that, that's all." At Snape's silent dare to explain what, exactly, that meant, he added, "I hoped he wouldn't do it – take the Mark, I mean." Snape, surprisingly, didn't seem to take offence to that, and when he made no response but to raise an eyebrow in Harry's direction, Professor Dumbledore continued his recounting of the events of the day.

"Voldemort does not intend to make Draco a Death Eater. It appears that he and Lucius Malfoy intend to use young Draco for a far more nefarious purpose. Are you familiar with the _Fidelitās Dominō_ bond?"

"No, sir." Moreover, he wasn't able to translate '_Dominō,_' but the combination of 'faithful' and 'bond' was certainly not reassuring.

"Have you _no_ knowledge of wizarding culture, Mr. Potter?" Snape sneered.

Harry wondered, since nearly all his time in the magical world had been spent here at Hogwarts, who exactly Snape thought would teach him the intricacies of "wizarding culture" – Uncle Vernon? He opened his mouth to ask, but Dumbledore gave him a look which very clearly told him to be polite, and Harry decided to adopt the policy of "if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all." When Snape grew impatient with the lack of response and made to take Harry to task for it, he earned his own chiding look.

"Harry was not raised in a wizarding household, Severus; a lack of familiarity with a ritual practised a handful of times in the last three centuries is not unexpected," the headmaster reprimanded gently before beginning his explanation. "The bond began as a simple oath taken by rulers in Anglo-Saxon times. In the ninth century, however, Eustacia Sigismund crafted spells which would magically bind the oath between the bloodlines of two wizards."

Harry straightened. He'd heard of Eustacia Sigismund – she was one of the possible topics for Flitwick's end-of-term essay. The first few moments of Dumbledore's explanation were largely a repetition of what Harry had read on the list: after her father had been murdered at the hand of a traitor, she had been raised by her mother's family, a line of wizards believed to be descended from Merlin himself, and she'd become one of the most powerful witches of her day, as well as a renowned diplomat and spellcraftress. "As an adult," Dumbledore continued, "part of her acclaim as a diplomat resulted from the spells she created, many of which enabled her to guarantee the negotiators were participating in good faith. Foremost of her achievements, at the time, was a ritual she called _Fidelitās Dominō._"

_That's not terribly reassuring_. Having heard of or witnessed firsthand many of Voldemort's methods of punishing traitors, Harry was positive that, regardless of how pure her motives had been, if the ritual was being used by Voldemort, it couldn't be good.

"Ritualistic magic, by its very nature, is extraordinarily elaborate, immensely complicated, and highly advanced magic: _Fidelitās Dominō_ is uncommonly so. Originally, the transfer of the defeated leader's fealty to a conquering king or prince was largely symbolic. Weaving magic into the pledge not only guaranteed the sincerity of the participants, it also assured the transition of the loyalty of the subjects from those who had been governing to the new leaders. Over time, it evolved, as most things do. Society changed, and formalized interactions between leaders, centralization of state, and larger armies lessened the need for such a spell. Its primary function became to settle private disputes and to solidify personal alliances between two families or individual citizens rather than warring factions. Occasionally, though only in the most conservative families, it would be used to cement betrothals, but most frequently it was used in business ventures. When the International Confederation of Wizards drafted the Statute of Wizarding Secrecy in 1692, they decided not to ban the ritual entirely but subjected it to many restrictions regulating its use, and it quickly went out of favour."

It was worse than Harry'd expected, then. Voldemort certainly wasn't going to supplicate himself to anyone, so one or both of the Malfoys – and Harry was betting on Draco – must have been bound to him._ Malfoy hasn't done something as common as take the Mark, no, he's bound himself to the monster instead! _Harry thought bitterly. "What does this mean for me?" _Besides a great "I told you so" from Ron and several other members of the DA._

From his position by the fireplace, Snape scoffed, clearly assuming that selfishness had prompted the question.

"It isn't an unreasonable question," Harry defended himself. "I was called in here for a reason, wasn't I? What am I supposed to think?"

Before Snape could reprimand him for insolence, Dumbledore intervened. "You are correct, Harry, but the answer is not simple. There are several possibilities, depending on how the bonding manifests." He leaned forward in his chair, eyes still serious. "The ritual involves several separate spell castings over the course of – at a minimum – a lunar month. What has been completed is merely the first part, the_ Prīncipium_. In this stage, the line being bound chooses a representative, called a_ vectigal_ – in this case, Draco Malfoy – and opens him magically, preparing him to accept the bond. Think of the bond as a magical bridge joining two wizards. A hole has been dug for one of the support beams, and it is now being built, while a suitable location for the opposite support beam is found."

Harry nodded to show his understanding, while thinking that if that were the usual method of building in the wizarding world – the project begun before it had been fully conceptualized or planned – it would explain a great deal about the examples of wizarding architecture he'd seen.

"The bond itself is not sentient, but it does have qualities which make it seem nearly so, and the first of these is the testing of the _vectigal_. If his desire to act as the representative of the family line or his willingness to be bound is in doubt, the _vectigal_ will experience profound discomfort. There is not much in the way of literature detailing the specifics – the majority of those affected did not survive the experience with their faculties fully intact – but the pain is believed to manifest itself physically, emotionally, and magically. I believe, Severus, that Draco Malfoy is already beginning to feel the effects?"

Snape nodded once, stiffly, and addressed the fireplace when he clarified, "It has been only a few hours, and already his spellwork is showing signs of inconsistency, and he appears to be experiencing soreness in his neck and shoulders."

"If he's so bloody regretful, he shouldn't have agreed to be bound in the first place," Harry scoffed.

Snape turned to face Harry. "You would be better served, Mr. Potter," he coldly bit out, "by asking questions rather than making assumptions; you are not gifted with Miss Granger's perspicacity or omniscience."

"Severus," murmured the headmaster, prompting Snape to take a slow, deep breath before he continued, "Draco is underage, and, as such, the bond would not have recognized him as an acceptable blood representative if he had offered himself. His father performed the _Prīncipium_, presenting Draco as the _vectigal_."

"And he can't just say no?" questioned Harry, incredulously.

Snape pushed himself away from the mantelpiece and said, very quietly, "Not without killing himself in the process," before crossing the room to stare out the window with the same unseeing intensity he had directed at the fire.

Harry looked back at the headmaster and saw that he was looking at the head of Slytherin with an expression of such painful regret that Harry felt ashamed and horrified of the tiny part of him that had responded, _So?_ Something of his own thoughts must have shown on his face: when Dumbledore turned back towards him, his expression changed to one of understanding and support, mixed with a hint of disappointment. Harry shifted his gaze down to the table and reached blindly for one of the sandwiches, and the older man took that as a sign to continue his explanation.

"At this point, the bond is evaluating young Mr. Malfoy's magical, physical, and emotional strength, and he faces one of three possibilities. If he is found sufficiently willing to represent his family but incapable of sustaining a connection with a bonded, the beginnings of the bond will dissipate without any direct repercussions. If he is capable of sustaining the bond but insincere in his willingness to do so, madness will set in. In the third and likeliest scenario, he will be found sincere and suitable, ready to continue to the next stage of the bonding cycle. If that is the case, and the bond has taken hold within him, the _vectigal_ must declare his intention to be bound and select a _dominus_, a specific member of the line accepting the bond to whom he is pledging himself. The other support beam of the bridge, if you will.

"As in most serious ritual magic, the vectigal must choose a second, in this case another of the blood line being bound, who symbolizes the support of the rest of the line. This prevents rogues from acting against the interests of the family. With a minimum of two involved, the risk of reckless decisions made under the influence of drink or madness is greatly decreased. It is not a foolproof system – Sirius, for example, would have been unable to pledge to the Order by the same proviso, even when he was head of the family. " Snape's breathing changed, just slightly, and Harry knew he was suppressing a remark about shortage of sanity in the Black family tree.

"Additional members of the _vectigal_'s family are given the opportunity to swear their own oaths of fidelity to the _dominus_, though in most cases only the person acting as the second is required to do so." Professor Dumbledore once again looked over at Professor Snape, and without saying a word, the two of them appeared to have a discussion and come to what seemed to be a mutually acceptable conclusion, though Snape seemed less than pleased. "Once the Pledging is complete, the third casting binds the two wizards together. The participants are expected to use the time before the fourth casting to adjust to the bond and begin building the bridge, the foundations of the relationship which they will share in the future. For the _vectigal_ to feel comfortable within the bond, he must be able to please or, at the very least, not displease his master."

Harry realized with a start that, although Dumbledore had not used the word "master" before this, what they were talking about was indeed a very intimate form of slavery. Thinking about spending the rest of his life tied to a heartless, vile monster like Voldemort was enough for Harry to begin to feel sympathy for Malfoy and to be very disturbed that Lucius would do such a thing to his own child.

"Guidelines and boundaries are set and patterns of behaviour established. If the _vectigal_ is bonded to an infant, for example, he would likely be trained as a protector; if they were of an age, depending on the level of trust and relative power between them, he could be trained to act as an advisor, a steward, or even as a companion."

"Or a whipping boy or a whore..." Snape continued, so quietly that Harry wasn't sure he'd heard him correctly. Dumbledore certainly didn't acknowledge the remark.

"How well the _vectigal_ acclimatizes in this stage will significantly influence both the physical and mental manifestation of the bond."

"Physical? It's visible?" While the _effects_ of magic could often be readily seen, the magic itself rarely was and never as more than flashes of colour.

"No, but the bonding process, specifically the third casting, the Joining, can be very painful. This is particularly true if the participants are unsuitable or if the _vectigal_ is uncomfortable with the nature of the bond, as is the case here. The separation of young Draco and his expected bond mate will not only prevent him from determining what will be expected of him but will also leave him at the mercy of his imagination, which has an understanding of what will terrify him the most and will torment him most effectively – without Voldemort having to take the time to do so himself."

Having experience with both the horrors devised by Voldemort and those crafted by his own dreams, Harry nodded his agreement.

The headmaster paused, staring blankly at the painting on the wall in front of him for a moment before shaking his head. "The spell, as Voldemort intends to use it, will require that Draco spend three of the four phases as a participant but barely involved in the proceedings. With the _Prīncipium_ performed forcibly, a prolonged state of alienation, a painful bonding, no real adjustment period – I'm not certain Draco would ever become fully comfortable within the constraints of that sort of bond. I imagine he would be in a great deal of physical discomfort as well."

"– And I'm certain that the Dark Lord has plans for him which would guarantee both physical and mental discomfort, even if your theories were simply idle speculation," Snape snapped from his position by the window. "He has always been aware of the power to be had in sexual conquest, and few things have ever deterred him in pursuit of a bedmate, certainly not age or gender."

"So Malfoy will be forced to..." Harry wasn't sure he could bring himself to say it, not in front of Snape and Dumbledore. Snape smirked at his discomfort, but the headmaster was willing to put him out of his misery.

"Indeed. Furthermore, discord is draining to the bonded, Harry. If the bond perceives that the _dominus_ is displeased with the behaviour of the _vectigal_, it will drain power from him and feed it to his master, restoring what it sees as the proper balance, forcing the _vectigal_ to submit."

"He may learn to do so," Snape interjected. "Draco is endowed with a healthy sense of self-preservation – but he was raised as a prince and given the difficult bonding..." The Potion master's control wavered for a moment, and he glared at Harry as though he were responsible. When Snape continued, his voice was once again empty of all emotion. "It is far more likely that within the year he'll be dead."

Unable to hold the stare, Harry dropped his eyes to his plate and the poor, mangled sandwich that rested on it. "Why am I here?" he repeated quietly. He didn't look up again until well after Dumbledore resumed speaking.

"A representative of the line accepting the bond must be present to choose a symbol of their line, to serve as a physical representation of the line in each of the following stages of the ritual. In part, this is to establish who is eligible to act as _dominus_. Another example of the near sentiency of the bond is its ability to evaluate who has the right to bear the symbol, to what extent, and for what duration. The physical symbol is also, in no small part, a statement of unity, of trust. Once a _vectigal_ is open to the magic, there is no assured person to whom he _must_ be bound, it is simply a guarantee that he is willing and suitable to do so. Any legitimate bearer of the symbol is an eligible candidate."

Harry was frustrated by the headmaster's refusal to simply answer the question and confused as to what, exactly, all of this had to do with him, but he was resigned to the headmaster's penchant for dramatic revelations and his determination to delay the unveiling of them. "So, choosing a prefect badge, say," he interjected, hoping he understood this, "that would be a bad symbol, since it's transitory and even those who have the right to it have other, almost certainly stronger loyalties to something else."

"Exactly, Harry! If an unexpected prefect were chosen, even one from the same house, there would be no guarantee that the services of the _vectigal_ would be used in the manner that the selector had intended, and after graduation, they would almost certainly not be. A family crest would serve better, and is, in fact, the usual symbol chosen, since family members are already expected to be loyal to the head of the family. That being said, the only essential characteristic of the unifier is that it must encompass more than one legitimate candidate. Since Voldemort is the last of the Riddle line, it was assumed that a Death Eater would be asked to stand for Voldemort in the _Prīncipium_, selecting the Dark Mark as the unifying symbol in place of the heraldic crest. If he had done so, Draco was willing to bind himself to Professor Snape; instead, Draco was taken to Malfoy Manor and Voldemort himself accepted the _Prīncipium_, and he chose a very unusual unifier, a talent rather than a physical symbol."

Harry was suddenly very certain he knew the reason why he'd been asked to this meeting. "He spoke in Parseltongue."

"Yes."

"And you want me to take Voldemort's place in the ritual – you want to bind Draco to me," he added flatly.

"We certainly aren't going to force you to do anything, Harry. We are asking you to consider the possibility. The choice is yours."

From the way Snape was glaring at the headmaster, Harry assumed that the two men were not in agreement on that point, and for a brief moment, when Snape turned his gaze to him, Harry thought he saw a painful combination of hope and fear before Snape's expression was shuttered entirely.

Harry felt a moment of sympathy for the Potions master. Pledging himself to Voldemort, discovering he had made the wrong choice, balancing between two leaders at war – the man's life had certainly not been easy, even for a cunning Slytherin. _It must be very difficult to see his protege following the same path, but there's no need to be delusional_.

"There's no way Draco Malfoy will agree to pledge himself to me," Harry said emphatically. "He may be regretting being bound to Voldemort, but he's not going to abandon the Great Cause."

"It was his idea."

Harry was so caught up in his ranting that he almost missed Snape's quiet response. "What?"

"He came to me as soon as he returned from Hogsmeade this afternoon, explained what had happened, and asked if I could arrange to speak to you."

Harry stared in disbelief. "I thought your spy status was super-secret; are you trying to tell me that Malfoy's _trustworthy_?"

"Draco is aware that I must ... appear repentant of my past actions to maintain my position as a spy inside Hogwarts. Increasingly during our discussions the past couple of years he has been testing my relative loyalties to the Dark Lord, to the headmaster, to Draco himself. It became evident that he was looking for an audience sympathetic to his doubts."

Once, Harry would have questioned how Snape could be certain of that, but after two and a half years of Occlumency lessons – at least a year of them actually useful – Harry had developed a deep respect for his teacher's abilities as a Legilimens. He was well aware of how subtle Snape could be when he intended.

"The bonding ritual was first proposed years ago, and Voldemort was looking for candidates when he was defeated at Godric's Hollow. When he returned after the Triwizard Tournament, Lucius was quick to put forth the scheme once again and to offer Draco to him. The Dark Lord was pleased, but ... for a number of reasons, the ceremony was postponed. Once Lucius was freed from Azkaban, his ambition and Draco's potential were too great for the Dark Lord to resist. In the interim, however, Draco has observed a great deal to disillusion the fantasies spun by his father. When he received the recent messages from Narcissa confirming his involvement in the ritual –"

_He knew?_ "Wait – if he knew what they were planning and he didn't want to be bound, why did he go to Hogsmeade?"

"That was my doing, I'm afraid, Harry." The headmaster met his gaze sorrowfully. "I expected the Malfoys to use this opportunity to officially inform Draco of specifics of the rite; his theories thus far have been based on rumour and veiled messages. Lucius has always been loyal to his lineage above all, and the torture that this form of the bond would cause is far more than most people would inflict on their greatest enemies. I believed he would convince Voldemort that other avenues would be more advantageous rather than permit his heir to be abused in such a manner."

Harry caught himself before he snorted aloud at the headmaster's continued naïveté concerning the sacrosanctity of blood relatives, but he had to look away before Dumbledore was further hurt by the bitterness in his expression. His gaze inadvertently met Snape's, and in that instant, they shared a moment of perfect understanding and agreement. Suddenly Snape's eyes narrowed, and recognizing the expression, Harry swiftly and discreetly reinforced his Occlumency shields. Whatever Snape wanted to see, Harry was certain he didn't want his teacher to find it.

While their working relationship had improved, Snape had never abandoned his preconceived ideas about Harry's background, which meant that he rarely looked for memories from Harry's time with the Dursleys. If Snape's expression was anything to go by, however, Harry's period of grace was coming to a swift end. Since this was not a conversation he wanted to have in front of the headmaster, particularly not now, Harry attempted to divert his attention.

"Why on earth would Voldemort activate the bond and then send Draco to the place with the closest known Parselmouth?"

The Potions master arched an eloquent eyebrow but accepted the delaying tactic, while Dumbledore answered serenely, "Tom has always underestimated your propensity for compassion, Harry."

Harry shifted his attention back to the older man, who was blithely refilling his teacup. You_ may have overestimated it_, he thought, but said, instead, as calmly as he could manage, "So it's me, then, or Voldemort – there's _no one_ else who speaks Parseltongue?"

Dumbledore was tasting the result of his efforts with deliberate slowness, and Snape, thankfully, did not have the patience to wait for him to finish. "There are few enough who speak it and fewer still who are guaranteed to have sufficient power to perform the bonding. There is no one else Draco is willing to trust with the power that would be generated." He gave a dry laugh at Harry's blank look. "You did realize that there had to be more to this bond that the binding of a servant?"

_Well, there's obviously the additional oaths of fidelity_, he thought defensively.

"As powerful as Lucius Malfoy likes to think he is," Snape continued, "if the Dark Lord was doing this simply to constrain servants, I rather suspect that he would choose a family more prolific than the Blacks or the Malfoys. I'm certain you can think of at least one example."

The headmaster seemed to recognize that there was only so long that Harry and Snape could speak calmly without a referee on a topic as contentious as this one because he resumed the explanation: "The more numerous the members of the line being bound, the greater the benefit to the conquerors, obviously, but the primary goal was to engender trust between the parties involved. Given that the bond was originally created to solidify alliances, Eustacia realized that few people would be willing to bind themselves if the sole outcome was a restriction, however honourably intended, of their actions. To that end, additional provisions were included which would allow the_ dominus_ to draw magical energy through the _vectigal_."

"How does that help the _vectigal_?" Harry asked incredulously.

"In the case of an honest alliance, this would benefit all parties, since the power would be used for the protection and welfare of both. The amount of power rendered is determined by conditions surrounding the bond, offering an incentive that the bonded be well treated – yet another reason why it was so surprising that Lucius and Voldemort chose this method for Draco. Any power generated would be comparatively negligible and extremely painful for both of them... "

"Unless he invoked a death sacrifice." Snape's voice had once again lost all emotion.

"Lucius could lose Narcissa, and Voldemort, Bellatrix. She's one of his most ardent supporters; it would be foolhardy to –"

"The Dark Lord has been acting rationally, then, in your opinion?" Snape was obviously at the end of his rope if he was snapping at the headmaster, especially with a student in the room.

"How would Narcissa and Bellatrix be at risk?" Harry asked quickly. The conversation was surreal enough without watching Snape and Dumbledore behave like Ron and Hermione.

While Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, the headmaster explained that the blood binding of the second of the _vectigal_'s line as a guarantor would prevent the _vectigal_ from having his magic drained entirely. But if the _dominus_ continued, despite the warning that too much was being asked, to the point that his _vectigal_'s magic – and life force – drained entirely, the ritual second and those of the line sworn could be in danger as well. In this instance, that meant Narcissa, as the second, and if the drain were strong enough, Bellatrix and any other surviving Blacks, since that was theirs is the line being bound, not the Malfoys. Harry was still confused. "Then why was Lucius involved?"

"When the patriarchate of the Black family tree transferred to Draco, Narcissa was named regent. Our assumption is that Narcissa yielded that title to Lucius, at least for the duration of the ritual."

"Can she do that? I thought he became persona non grata with the Ministry when he escaped from Azkaban?" Sirius certainly had, which meant he was unable to be any sort of guardian to Harry.

"Legally, of course, he cannot. However, as is often the case, Ministry laws have no _direct_ influence on the spell casting. It is the spell itself which will accept authority within the context of the ritual. The majority of the literature on the subject was written by parties who were witnesses to but not participants in the bonding, and much of the information has been destroyed or hidden in recent centuries, but it appears that the bond evaluates one's state of mind."

"And Lucius Malfoy has never held Ministry legislation as sufficient reason to deny himself anything." Snape's voice was laced with memory, and he shared a knowing look with the headmaster before the latter continued the explanation: "Many factors influence the aspects of the final bond, but, traditionally, _vectigals_ holding higher rank in the line being bound – the defeated chieftain himself, for example, or his firstborn – would generate more power for the _dominus_, regardless of the original levels of magic in the participants. Tom has never been able to resist the lure of great power.

"Despite being the eldest of the Black sisters, Bellatrix Lestrange and by extension, her husband were almost certainly excluded from the ritual for fear that they would be judged by the ritual as _non compos mentis_, and with Andromeda disowned, Narcissa is the next highest-ranking Black and Draco the highest-ranking Black male. Their claim is weakened, of course, by the fact that neither of them claim the name, but Lucius acting as regent bestows additional status: he is indisputably the ranking Malfoy, and Draco is as much the heir of Malfoy as Black. Lucius's participation would act as a justification, of sorts, for why he was chosen and a show of support from the paternal line."

Harry rolled his eyes at the nonsense old-fashioned pure-bloods put themselves through. "Yes, he's a legitimate Black, and no, there's no conflict with his Malfoy obligations," he paraphrased, and Snape gave the barest of nods in acknowledgement. "But neither his mother nor his aunt will support Draco being bound to me." Harry evaluated the candidates and came to the obvious conclusion. "You want to risk Tonks as well?"

"You're hardly likely to drain your _vectigal_ of his life force, Mr. Potter, let alone the entire line," Snape said in the tone he'd generally reserved for berating Neville after a cauldron-melting. "You are correct, however, in your assumption that should you agree to participate, Draco will approach Tonks. Regardless of how much Walburga Black wished it otherwise, Nymphadora is aware that she is as much Black as she is Tonks. As Draco's trustee, she already shares some obligation towards him, and as a member of the Order, she can be trusted with a responsibility of this magnitude."

"So if I agree to this... That's it, right? Draco, Tonks, and me. We don't need to involve Tonks's mum or cousin three-times removed or anyone else." Harry's eyes narrowed at the silence. "Right?"

"Under normal circumstances, that would be correct," Dumbledore said carefully.

"But we're talking about me. Which specific part of this _completely_ mad situation would _you_ classify as _abnormal_?" Dumbledore gave him another disapproving look, which Harry didn't particularly appreciate: all things considered, he thought he was acting remarkably calm.

"The ritual is complicated by Draco's status as a minor. Madam Sigismund recognized that her bonding spell could be used on those who were unwilling or unaware of the significance of being bound, and she created safeguards for such eventualities. She did not conceive that anyone would be opposed to being the master in the bond, so there are no restrictions on the age of the _dominus_, but wizards or wizards pledging themselves as _vectigals_ must have reached the age of majority or be sponsored by either a parent or the head of the family. I cannot state with certainty whether it would even be possible for you to pledge yourself as_ vectigal_, for example; those who are Muggle-raised tend to retain Muggle traditions and mores, and the idea of the age of majority is often one of them. Your subconscious may well regard eighteen as the age at which you are considered an adult."

_Interesting_. At some point – _in my copious amounts of free time_, Harry snorted mentally – he'd have to examine which ones he'd kept. He suspected that the age of majority was not one of them. Between his rather dramatic departure from the Dursleys and the responsibilities in assuming control of his trust funds, he felt very much like an adult, at least when he wasn't at school. Though he didn't have much basis for comparison, Harry realized. _Perhaps there should be a course about wizards in addition to the one about Muggles_.

Harry returned his attention to Dumbledore's explanation: "When the Wizengamot codified the ritual, they required that the _vectigal_ be seventeen when the bond is accepted. The law cannot stop the bond from forming, but to attempt to bind a minor is an offence punishable by the Kiss, and I suspect without the Dementors, the penalty would be death."

Harry assumed that the headmaster did not want him dead or Kissed by Dementors – there certainly had been ample opportunity to arrange either in the last six and a half years – which meant there must be a solution, but Harry couldn't see it. "Then how can..."

"Draco will turn seventeen two weeks from today," Snape interjected.

_Convenient. Two weeks before – _"So that should satisfy the requirements of the bond and the Ministry; how does that complicate things?"

"The bond will not recognize a change in the status of the _vectigal_ until the ritual is complete. As a result, because Draco's father opened the bond, it will be necessary to include at least one of his parents in certain stages of the ritual cycle."

"So, Lucius is really a spy for our side as well, then? And a great guy, way," _way, way,_ "down deep, no doubt?"

"Perhaps, Albus, we should consider offering a course in 'Wizarding Studies'; there is apparently a need." Harry started, more at Snape's echoing of his earlier thought than from any offence at the comment, but his professor looked smug at provoking a response, regardless.

The headmaster sighed deeply, and both Harry and Snape shifted uncomfortably.

"There is a variation of the standard adoption ceremony which can be performed when a young adult desires to affiliate himself with a family not his own, usually for financial or ideological reasons," Dumbledore clarified.

"Many younger sons of traditional pure-blood families will perform the ceremony when Uncle Alphard is wealthy and childless," was Snape's cynical contribution, and it earned him yet another meaningful look from the headmaster, though it was enigmatic to Harry.

"Professor Snape has offered to adopt Draco and to perform the duties required of Draco's parent in the ritual. Nevertheless, because the bond sees Draco as a child and would see you as an adult, the bond would always be unequal. Over time, he would not age in your eyes, and his legal status would be determined by your perception of him; regardless of chronology, you would treat him initially as a child and later, as the bond would see the age gap between you increase, as an intelligent pet."

"No. I can't." Harry shook his head forcefully. "That's not fair – it's not fair to me, it's not fair to him. There has to be another way."

"So you'd rather he be given to the Dark Lord as a plaything or live in pain for the rest of his life, a life which would be calculated in days rather than years?" Snape crossed his arms and stared challengingly at Harry.

"No, but –" Harry felt ready to cry in frustration. "There _has_ to be another way."

"If you feel that strongly, Harry," Dumbledore said mildly, "you may also avail yourself of the adoption spell."

_Of course I could_. Harry sighed. "Which would entail what?"

"You would need to decide which adult or adults you feel would be suitable to act as a parent to you. Once a request has been made and accepted, the ritual itself is straightforward and requires little beyond the willingness of those participating, the wizard officiating, and witnesses to the ceremony. As far as the _Fidelitās Dominō_ ritual is concerned, your parent will be required to participate, primarily as an advocate, authorizing your actions. You will enter the bond on equal footing with Draco; it would be possible for him to be recognized as an adult. There are other considerations, of course. Should you avail yourself of the adoption ceremony, for the next three years you would, in all ways, legally be a child: your place of residence would be with your parent, your inheritance would revert to its trust fund state with your new parent as the primary trustee, you would once again be subject to the laws regulating minors."

Harry had a sudden thought and interrupted, "Does that include the statute of underage wizardry?"

"In_ every_ way, Harry." The older wizard met his gaze levelly, with no sign of his customary twinkle. "You will even require parental permission to visit Hogsmeade for the remainder of the year."

"I can't be restricted to practising magic only at Hogwarts for the next three years; I graduate in the spring." Harry's eyes widened in horror. "Unless that's affected too?"

"No, Harry. Both you and Draco will graduate with your year mates. And since I assume that you aren't considering a Muggle as a potential parent," he waited for Harry to shake his head, "you shouldn't have any difficulties with the Decree. I believe both your infractions fall under the articles restricting the use of magic in front of Muggles. I assume that your choice of guardian will be living in the wizarding world, thereby negating the problem."

He had a sudden vision of life at the Burrow and all the magic that was so prevalent there. He'd never heard Ron or Ginny complain about the Decree, and there was no way the twins could have done half their inventing without magic. _Yet another reason to resent life at the Dursley's_. He suddenly felt caged sitting on the sofa, so he stood up and began walking slowly around the room.

"I had considered suggesting this ceremony to you before you left Hogwarts for the summer. It is possible that the blood protection spell could have been extended with your reversion to minor status if you had been willing to be adopted by your aunt and uncle –"

Harry stopped abruptly. "No!" His emphatic response earned another piercing gaze from Snape and a compassionate one from the headmaster before he turned away and began walking again.

"It is a moot point at this time, as I believe your relationship with them was quite irrevocably severed when you left them, and once lost, the blood protection cannot be renewed."

Harry found himself in Snape's earlier position by the fire. "Can the bond be ended?"

"There is no record of a means of doing so." Dumbledore's voice was so emotionless it could have been Snape's.

Harry nodded in acknowledgement and still facing the fire, asked quietly, "What would happen if he doesn't pledge?"

"If the bond remains open and unpaired beyond the lunar cycle, it would drain Draco first of his magic, then of his life force. He would be dead in a matter of months."

"I need to think about this," Harry said, pushing away from the mantelpiece.

"Of course. Though there are preparations to be made regardless of what you decide to do, and time is of the essence." Harry nodded, and the headmaster continued, "I must caution you, as well, that _any_ discussion of these events will put a number of people in grave danger, and I must ask that you not repeat any portion of this conversation to anyone – not to _anyone_, Mr. Potter – without obtaining approval from myself or Professor Snape beforehand. This particularly includes Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley."

Harry nodded again, and without waiting to be excused, he left the headmaster's office.

* * *

_Next Chapter: Harry does his own research! _

_If you have questions about anything in the unwieldy mess you just read, let me know, and I'll do my best to answer them in the upcoming chapters._

_+Egeon is a character in Shakespeare's _The Comedy of Errors _who, in a long near soliloquy, lays out the backstory and sets up the plot. _


	4. What Do You Want?

_Draco has told me quite firmly that while Harry might be a touchy-feely Hufflepuff in training and Severus might be bribable, he himself does not intend to bare his thoughts to the masses – thank you very much – so there won't be much from his POV (at least not until he feels the need to get even). He also said that I was not permitted to blame him for the delay in posting this chapter, since he told me from the beginning that he wouldn't do it, and if I had listened I wouldn't have had the delay. So there you go – it's all my fault._

_To start my new year off as the mature, responsible adult I'm supposed to be, I thought I'd give you a new chapter. So I dug in, let Draco win (for the moment), and decided to cut the chapter in half. The birthday celebrations, however, ran late (the late that comes after 'early the next day'), so not so much with the 'mature, responsible,' but you get the chapter anyway, only a day late. _

_All rights to the world of _Harry Potter_ belong to J.K. Rowling and a number of very large corporations, none of which is me, and I do not intend to make any money whatsoever from this endeavour._

_Bonus marks to those of you who catch the nod to Mercedes Lackey, though I hadn't realized it was there until the chapter was half written._

_Particular thanks must be given to my lovely Betas Tithenai and Phoenix Writing, who have helped make this a much better story in both style and content. Any mistakes which remain are, indubitably, my own. _

_Additional notes are available before the prologue._

_Constructive criticism is always very much appreciated._

Originally posted 17 Mar. '06; edited version posted 13 Dec. '07

**What Do You Want?**

Harry felt a headache forming, one that was very familiar to him – it was the same headache he had after one of Hermione's scheduled study marathons. On autopilot, Harry headed for dinner and diversion in the Great Hall, which he and Ron had found in the past to be an effective cure. Besides, despite having mangled a couple of sandwiches in the Headmaster's office, he couldn't remember eating any of them, and it had been a long time since lunch.

Unfortunately, the closer he got to the food, the more his stomach protested the idea of it. By the time Harry reached the foot of the staircase, he knew that eating would be an impossibility, and just sitting there would leave him physically able to answer the questions of his curious friends. Since he was in no way ready to share, he continued across the entrance hall and out onto the lawn. This time of evening, there weren't many people outside, but Harry did notice a few students who appeared to be arranging teams for a game of some sort. Having no desire to be drafted as player, post, or referee, he turned and headed toward the lake. While the weather may have been unseasonably warm, it was still nearly December, and Harry was unlikely to be disturbed there.

_Even the giant squid is nowhere in sight_, Harry noted gratefully as he sat and leaned wearily at the base of a tree not far from the water's edge.

Occlumency was necessary at times and really not _that_ difficult, once Snape and Harry had approached the lessons intending to succeed. The trouble, it turned out, was that when Harry had arrived with a lot of the groundwork in place, Snape had assumed that either Hermione or the headmaster had instructed him in the basics and that Harry was simply being perverse in his refusal to follow directions. In fact, Harry had been acting unconsciously and by instinct and was becoming more and more frustrated with Snape's refusal to actually teach. With an understanding of the theory, Harry had been surprised at how well he could hold out against Voldemort. Unfortunately, he hadn't yet managed to dissipate his mental protections in a controlled manner, and the release of emotions was unpredictable and usually overwhelming. He found it best to make sure he was alone since he often ended up crying or yelling, and once had an embarrassing fit of giggles that reminded him – and his dormmates – of Lavender and Parvati at their most annoying.

_Why can't there be anything that's just good?_ Harry picked up a small rock from the ground next to him and threw it into the lake with a violence that the rock likely didn't deserve. The trip to Hogsmeade had been great, the shopping had been completed successfully, he'd had fun with his friends. He didn't know how Ron had talked Hermione into giving them the whole day off studying –_ and I don't want to _– but it had been fun and restful and at times even silly. _Why can't that ever be it? Every time something goes right, something good happens, it gets completely overshadowed by something awful. _

He picked up another rock, this one smaller and more jagged, and turned it over in his hands while he catalogued the emerging pattern of his life. He finally found out he was a wizard and got to leave the Dursleys only to discover that he had all this fame and the responsibility and expectations that went with it – not to mention being stalked by a homicidal maniac. He'd been offered a chance to live with his godfather only to have it taken away within hours. Quidditch had been tainted by Hospital stays, certain DADA teachers, and – other people he didn't want to think about.

Even leaving the Dursleys this summer had required action figures and press interviews.

He'd begun to suspect that Voldemort had cursed him with more than Avada Kedavra, probably some sort of mixed luck hex. He'd have to remember to ask Hermione about that and soon, since she probably wouldn't want to help – if she would even speak to him – once she found out about this latest scheme. Given her reaction when she'd learned he'd had to bind Kreacher to protect the secrets of the Order, he was terrified of how she'd react after he bound a wizard. _**If**__ I decide to_, he thought resentfully as the second rock hit the water with even more force than the first.

He'd be happy to gain Malfoy as an ally – with his new restrained attitude, it had been an obvious topic of speculation, and even Ron had been forced to admit that the Slytherin was clever, talented, and driven. If his skills could be used for Harry rather than against him, the blows to Lucius and, to a lesser extent, Voldemort would definitely be secondary benefits, since Malfoy would be a valuable addition to the Order in his own right. But couldn't that happen without him being tied to Harry for the rest of their lives?

The third rock was smooth and flatter then the previous ones, Harry noted absently. Once the war was over, assuming he survived, he'd had plans: Harry, who'd never had the opportunity, and Remus, who'd never had the funds, would be going to all the places and seeing all the things that Harry had been denied while with the Dursleys or had never heard about until he'd entered the wizarding world.

Harry and Remus had spent many hours together, this past summer, talking about all sorts of things, and some of Harry's favourite evenings had been spent listening to Remus talk about places he'd seen or studied, particularly Paris – he'd been there once as a boy with his parents, the last trip his family had taken outside of Britain as he'd been bitten shortly thereafter. Though he'd been too young to really appreciate it, he'd enjoyed it tremendously. _Of course_, he'd added with a teasing grin,_ I was too young to experience it properly_. Both James and Sirius had gone to France at least once during term breaks, but between James's elderly parents and Sirius's strict ones, they, too, had been limited in their explorations. Returning to Paris together was one of the many adventures the Marauders had been forced to postpone when Voldemort rose to power.

They'd also talked about Egypt with Bill, one Saturday at the Burrow; Guatemala, over dinner with Kingsley Shacklebolt who'd just returned from there; as well as Australia, Thailand, and so many others, just because they seemed interesting, for one reason or another.

Harry'd planned to surprise Remus with tickets after the war – for Christmas, his birthday, whatever possible occasion came first – open-ended, first to Paris then to wherever they felt like, for as long as they wanted. Stopping in cafes and bazaars, visiting museums and libraries, maybe seeing another World Cup... .

But that would never happen now, since he'd be stuck dragging Malfoy around with him.

His perfect vacation would not only no longer be perfect, it would scarcely be a vacation at all with Malfoy complaining about having to carry his own purchases, the inferiority of the accommodations, the plebeian nature of their activities... _Which isn't entirely fair_, he conceded as he squinted in the twilight to watch the rock skip twice before sinking. He didn't know Malfoy well enough to know what he'd expect from a vacation.

_Actually_, he realized,_ Dumbledore never really said much about the specific details of the bond beyond the ritual _– at least not that he could remember. He really wasn't ready for another long conversation dodging Dumbledore's expectant looks or Snape's challenging ones, but he could check the library and see if they had anything there. If he asked, he could probably even get a pass for the Restricted Section from the headmaster – or Snape, for that matter. _What are they going to do, say no? _Tomorrow, though. Harry didn't think he could handle more information right now.

Besides, the practical details would not change to suit what he wanted, and they had little to do with answering the important question. If Snape was right, and Draco really had been reconsidering his options – and if he hadn't been, being tied to Voldemort was certainly a good reason to start – Harry was in a position to help him: could he really leave Draco with Voldemort and still be able to live with himself?

Harry had stopped Sirius and Remus from killing Pettigrew in the Shrieking Shack – _Yeah, and look how that turned out _– and Draco certainly deserved this whole situation less than Pettigrew deserved to die. The Prince of Slytherin was an arrogant, nasty prat, but he'd never done anything worse than any other school bully. _And_, Harry sighed, _a "lot of people are idiots at fifteen." _

Could he really refuse to help or to give Malfoy a second chance when even Harry's own father had done worse, and he'd forgiven James? Granted, that forgiveness had come after many long talks and pensieve viewings with Moony, and Harry had never been the target of or witnessed James's pranks firsthand, but... .

Besides, Pettigrew never regretted anything or even apologized; he just pleaded for his life like a snivelling coward. In comparison, he wondered how the Marauders could taunt Snape with the nickname Snivellus – _sarcastic, sneaky, complete arse when he wants, sure, but weak? _Regardless of where his true allegiances were, he was betraying one of the most powerful wizards alive. Voldemort was nearly as sadistic to his faithful followers as he was to the Muggles he hoped to eradicate; there would be no mercy if he discovered the traitor in his midst. On the other side, while Dumbledore might choose to appear the benign grandfather, he was the wizard who had defeated Grindelwald, and Snape had already been given his second chance.

Both Dumbledore and Snape had done a great deal for Harry, and he knew they both had expectations – not because he owed them, but because he had been sorted into Gryffindor for a reason. He knew that they wouldn't want him to do it because they thought he should –_ well, maybe Snape _– but it was tempting to use that as the deciding factor. It would certainly make things easier.

On the other hand, Remus had a theory about Harry's need to please people being a remnant of a childhood of being unable to do anything right for the Dursleys, and Harry agreed, to a point. It was nice being "the good one" for a change, and he hated to disappoint people he respected so much. Between Lily's blood sacrifice and his grandparents' taking in Sirius when he left his family, Harry thought his family, too, might have understood and even been proud.

Hermione would add that he was supposed to be working on controlling his "saving people thing" and not running blindly into situations for which he was completely unprepared. _Which_, he told his inner Hermione, _isn't true_. This time he wasn't going in blind, and he had at least two extremely intelligent adults with him.

_Besides, the primary reason I'm considering this has nothing to do with Malfoy or Voldemort._

And that was the crux of the problem. How much of yourself should you be willing to give to get the thing you want most in the world?

He'd been thrilled to leave the Dursleys this summer, but – this was the revelation that had prompted Remus's "pleasing people" theory – he'd also felt just a bit of regret that they'd never managed to reconcile themselves to magic, that he hadn't been Muggle enough, that they'd never been the family he'd always wanted. Leaving meant they never would. And even if Harry were to marry and raise a family of his own, he'd still never experience the love of a parent outside the range of a Dementor.

There were, Harry was certain, any number of people who would be thrilled to adopt the Boy Who Lived, but there were very few people in his life who would be both able and willing to care for Just Harry. The Weasleys, of course. Mrs. Weasley had said as much at his birthday celebration this summer:

"_I'm sorry this business with You Know Who didn't get sorted out before you  
came of age, but you've turned into a fine lad all the same, no thanks to those  
Muggles." She'd hugged him then, and the rest of her words were spoken  
quietly, in his ear. "Remember that a man is never too old to come to his –  
Well, you just come to me if you need a woman's perspective, all right?"_

He'd done nothing more than nod in response because it had been several minutes before he could force air past the lump in his throat.

The Weasleys could ill-afford another child, however, especially since Harry was certain that not only would they refuse money from his trust, but they likely wouldn't let him access it either. There was also the danger to the family and the Burrow to consider, and Arthur and Molly Weasley would find it difficult to handle the prophesy as it was, concerning their son's best friend. If the subject was a child of their own, Harry suspected the Order would remember Mrs. Black's rants fondly in comparison.

_Besides, the last thing Ron needs is _another_ overshadowing brother._

Remus, though... Remus was a Marauder and one of Lily Potter's closest friends. He understood the danger and that sometimes the risks were worth it, though he did spend a lot of time making sure Harry would be both prepared and careful.

Harry was almost certain Remus would say yes. They'd gotten pretty close this summer, though Remus had been careful not to seem like he was trying to replace Sirius, and despite Mrs. Weasley's fears, most of their conversations had not revolved around his parents and godfather. It was kind of what Harry imagined having an uncle who wasn't Vernon Dursley would have been like.

Unfortunately, despite what the Sorting Hat had seen in his head, or maybe because he hadn't listened to it, he wasn't Slytherin enough to take the adoption and leave the bonding; his Gryffindor sense of fair play wouldn't allow it. So the question was, could he tolerate close ties with Malfoy and Snape in exchange for Remus as a father?

He just wished he knew – if the spell was as common as Snape had said – why Remus had never mentioned it, offered it as an option to Harry. Remus knew exactly how much Harry desperately wanted a family, how alone he felt, and he would have known, or at least guessed, that the blood magic protections would have ended this summer, if that had been his reason for keeping silent.

That someone as... _Snape_ as Snape could manage to unbend enough to ask a spoiled bully like Malfoy to be his son, while Remus, one of the most generous and insightful people Harry knew, couldn't even... or maybe didn't..._It's Not Fair! _

_Ok. That's possibly the most ridiculous and childish thought I've ever had. Time to go back inside and stop feeling sorry for myself before Myrtle comes 'round for pointers. _Harry stood and shook out the stiffness he felt after sitting on the cold ground for so long. He took the last of the rocks he had been playing with, and, since it was far too dark to see, he listened for it and counted the skips. With a faint smile, he headed back to the castle. It was a personal best.

Dinner was over and the hallways surprisingly quiet as Harry made his way to Gryffindor tower. He did find a number of his housemates in the common room, however, and Hermione's study reprieve was apparently for the whole day, since Ron was engaged in what appeared to be a war of Exploding Snap with Seamus and a number of the sixth years, including Ginny. Hermione was sitting in a chair by the fire, with a book, of course, but rather than actually reading, she seemed to be trying not to laugh as she eavesdropped on a conversation between a group of gloating third years and an envious audience of first- and second-years.

"Hey, Harry."

Neville's quiet voice was surprisingly clear in the cacophony, and a number of others looked up and echoed the greeting. He acknowledged them all with a wave and turned toward the dormitory stairs, intending to drop off his cloak and take a moment to prepare himself before facing the crowd.

Hermione raised an eyebrow and cocked her head toward the stairs, indicating she was ready to listen if he needed to talk. He often did after a meeting with the headmaster, but this time he shook his head slightly and shrugged, indicating that it wasn't necessary. She furrowed her brow slightly in confusion: it wasn't like Dumbledore to interrupt Harry's Saturday with insignificancies, but she let it drop, for which Harry was very grateful.

"Ron put your things on your bed," was all she said.

"Thanks," he replied with a smile, and her rueful shrug in response told him she knew he was more appreciative of the space she was giving him than the information.

Harry was relieved to find the dorm empty; he hadn't seen Dean in the common room and had feared that he would be upstairs. It was much easier to hold his "Cheerful Harry" persona in a room full of people and distractions than it was one-on-one in the privacy of their room, and Dean tended to be more observant than Harry's other roommates. He noticed his parcels on the bed and debated sorting through them, but in the end he decided just to put them in his trunk and deal with them later.

The remainder of the evening was surprisingly painless, though he was unable to recapture the careless joy of earlier that afternoon. The advantage of the large crowd in the common room was that Ron and Hermione were well aware of the need for discretion regarding Harry's training with the Order, and they would not bring up the subject in an unsecured place. The key to avoiding any discussion would be to stay in the group until Dean or Seamus went to bed but to go upstairs before there was no one left in the common room but his closest friends.

It wasn't that he didn't trust Ron and Hermione, he did. He knew that they – Ginny and Neville too, for that matter – were entirely loyal to the Order and committed to helping Harry. Unfortunately, they also had their own personal prejudices, and a discussion about Draco Malfoy and bonds would make them both irrational. He knew that their friendship was solid, and while there would obviously be difficult times, they would eventually be reconciled, but the distance created by the mysteries of the gift of the Firebolt and Harry's inclusion in the Triwizard Tournament had been difficult enough separately; he really didn't want to have to deal with losing both of his best friends, even temporarily, while his life was in a state of upheaval. Even if they would be willing to discuss the situation rationally, the conversation wouldn't end without very long lectures from both of them. Besides, there was no need to ruin their Christmas, too.

As he snuggled under the covers after a long and draining day, he found it surprisingly easy to ignore the small part of him which claimed that he didn't tell them because he'd already made his decision and didn't want to be talked out of it.

* * *

Severus Snape was familiar with danger. The slow crawl of fear that began at the base of the spine and climbed with every word and action, every moment that brought one closer to victory or death. It was a sensation he'd nearly forgotten it was possible to live without.

At the moment, however, Severus could not remember a time – not even when he first began his betrayal of the Dark Lord – which had left him so on edge. Then, at least, he'd only to rely on Dumbledore's legendary discretion, of which Severus had been reasonably certain given the information he brought to the Order, and his own skills in misdirection, Occlumency, and intelligence gathering. And Severus had learned at a very early age the hazards of trusting anyone but himself.

After the meeting, Severus was reasonably certain Potter would accept the bond. His Gryffindor-encouraged saviour complex aside, his expression when the discussion turned to the adoption was almost painful in its desire. It was enough to make Severus question exactly which of the rumours that periodically surfaced about Potter's childhood was closest to the truth, and how much of them was based in fact. That he did not know after two years of Occlumency with the boy was cause for a moment of chagrin and determination. Tuesday's training session with Potter would be spent rectifying that state of affairs, a respite from the areas of Severus's life which he could not control.

Snape allowed himself a moment of resentment toward The Boy Who Hesitated.

Until Potter accepted his place in the ritual, both Severus and Draco were in a position too vulnerable for sanity, let alone comfort. Until the connection between Potter and Draco was initiated, Draco was legally bound by filial ties, and even Dumbledore would be unable to thwart a summons from Narcissa for long. Without Potter's protection, Draco would be dead: in agony as the bond consumed his magic and his energy, or as peacefully as Severus's potions could manage it, but dead nevertheless. For all the discussion in Dumbledore's office about Draco's fate at the hand of the Dark Lord, too many of the conversations between Severus and his godson were suspect, and there would be no way to Obliviate the boy sufficiently without it being conspicuous that something was being hidden.

Dumbledore had given Harry the luxury of choice – something rarely offered to Slytherins – and every moment that Potter took advantage of was another moment that increased the likelihood of catastrophe. The intensity of the emotions that Severus was so desperate to hide and the importance of the information he had to block should he be Summoned made his usually-impenetrable shields less stable, and he was not confident they would hold against a direct attack, the headmaster's blithe optimism aside. That he had facilitated conversation between Draco and the Order would be enough to sacrifice his position in the inner circle of the Death Eaters; once the Dark Lord was aware of today's activities, an order for Severus's death would be guaranteed. He'd long accepted that his life would be forfeit in this war, but for it to be given to a child's whim was lowering indeed.

When Draco had come to him with his suspicions and they had established that under the likeliest scenarios Snape could function as the_ dominus_ if the bond were opened, there had been a part of him which had been profoundly relieved. After so many years of evading the Dark Lord while standing in his presence, it might be a nice change to do it from a distance. It was then that he'd realized the perils of his time with the Order: prolonged exposure to Gryffindors obviously eroded one's mental competency.

Snape entered his classroom with a sigh of relief. The halls may have been devoid of the majority of students, but there was still the portraits, the ghosts, and the chance of an unlucky meeting, and Severus desperately needed to be alone for a few moments. Preferably in his rooms with a glass of absinthe, but Draco was still in his office, far more anxious than Severus himself, and Death Eater or not, even he wasn't so evil as that.

Before he could deal with another emotionally-fraught conversation, though, he needed a moment to reinforce his Occlumency shields. Given how very much he needed Potter to assume his role in this and how little reason the boy had to aid Draco and Snape, Snape had intended to be as calm and neutral as possible in their meeting. Any one flaring of temper could cause the Golden Boy to stomp out of the room and refuse to listen further, let alone assist. Given the number of looks he'd received from the headmaster, he clearly hadn't done as well as he'd hoped, though Potter had stayed for the duration of the explanation, so he'd obviously done well enough.

Harry, on the other hand, had surpassed all expectations: the boy was becoming very adept at the craft. His protections were subtle, efficient, and strong – not perfect by any stretch of the definition, but better done than would be possible by most adult wizards, nearly unheard of in a boy his age. Severus was aware that the majority of the credit for Potter's improvement was owed to the boy's obstinacy and sheer power, but there was a glimmer of pride in his accomplishment in developing the skill that surfaced, just occasionally.

At present, though, Severus would have liked nothing more than to drop every shield he had and forget that Occlumency existed. He didn't have time to deal with the emotional onslaught that would result and rebuild them again, however, so he simply repaired them as best he could before turning to join Draco in his office.

He opened the door to find his godson sitting with his feet propped on Snape's desk marking one of the first years' essays in an attempt to distract himself from the discussions taking place about his fate. Draco was acting as Snape's unofficial apprentice as part of his N.E.W.T. internship and did much of the marking for the lower year courses, a circumstance heartily approved of by most of the students. Draco was no easier a marker and his comments could not be considered kind, but they were much less caustic than those of the Potions master. Snape had intended to have Draco mark the essays during their session on Monday – the potion they were currently working on was notorious for its simmering time – but thanks to this afternoon's developments, there would be no shortage of tasks to be completed in their stead.

Next to the large stack of completed essays was a half-empty snifter which Severus was inclined to overlook since Draco had suffered a traumatic day, provided it was the first glass and that he had eaten. A quick scan of the table near the fireplace revealed a plate which was not as empty as he would have hoped but had been relieved of more food than he had expected.

"I didn't think it would take that long to convince the headmaster." Draco's tone was nearly flawless in its nonchalance, but the ploy would have been more successful if Severus had not caught his sidelong glance at the foeglass and the slight relaxing of his shoulders which followed.

"Dumbledore and I decided it would be advantageous to speak with Potter alone."

Draco nodded and took his feet off the desk to turn to face Snape. "He wouldn't have been able to refuse if I'd been there. I_ am _aware that it has to be his choice if this is going to work."

"There were a number of reasons," Snape replied carefully, "not the least of which was an uncertainty as to the potential repercussions," both to the bond and any hope they had of any future amicability, "if Potter chose to lash out verbally."

Fortunately, Draco recognized his housemaster's even, deliberate tone for what it was: a suggestion that he take care with his own temper. He nodded again in acknowledgement of both the warning and the comment, and Snape gave Draco a brief recounting of the meeting, downplaying his suspicions about Potter's motivations and highlighting the points at which Potter had requested additional information. "Then he asked if the bond could be ended, what would happen if you weren't to pledge, and left the headmaster's office to consider the matter."

Snape watched Draco sit back in the chair, more relaxed than he'd been all day. He'd recognized then that if Potter was thinking about it, if he was sufficiently tempted that he couldn't dismiss the idea out of hand, then the quintessential Gryffindor would eventually agree. Whatever had kept him from refusing outright would eventually overcome his trepidation and selfish instincts, assuming the Golden Boy had any of either.

Any further speculation was halted by a knock on the office door. As Snape crossed the room to answer it, Draco moved from the professor's desk to one of the chairs in front of the fireplace. It was one thing to be impudent to Snape's face; it was quite another to do it in front of witnesses.

Snape opened the door and found Nymphadora Tonks on the other side, looking guilty and defiant, much like she had when she'd arrived for each of her detentions. And they had been many. Her record for cauldron destruction was unbroken, even by Neville Longbottom. To Snape, at least, her appearance this evening was not wholly unexpected. As one of the Aurors in Hogsmeade and a member of the Order, she would have been an obvious choice to report to Dumbledore since she could claim the need to speak with the headmaster about her cousin.

"The headmaster asked me to stop by before I left. Draco Malfoy apparently wants a word, and he thought you'd know where I could find him."

Snape held back a smirk as he watched Draco's face lose any remaining colour when he identified the voice and determined what the headmaster expected them to discuss. He opened the door wider, so Tonks could see his guest. "I do, as it happens. Please come in."

Draco stood and inclined his head just slightly to the left, a signal his godfather recognised from the first parties Lucius had required Draco to attend as a young boy. Training in proper etiquette began early in the Malfoy family and was intense. Names, crests, and other means of identifying guests and their status were to be memorized before each event, and failure to do so was considered a grievous insult by Lucius. Severus had created the subtle sign to enable Draco to let his godfather know when he had forgotten a name without his father becoming aware of his failing. Over time, the sign had evolved – Draco hadn't forgotten a name in nearly ten years – and it had come to be used by either of them to signal that he had never been officially introduced to the other's associate.

Severus was momentarily surprised that the two had never met, though on reflection he couldn't imagine why – Lucius and Narcissa were united in their condemnation of Andromeda's choices, and Tonks was nothing but critical of the remaining members of her mother's family, particularly as her familiarity with Harry increased.

"Auror Tonks, may I present Draco Malfoy."

Draco made a small but perfectly-executed bow in response, but Tonks ignored the pleasantries.

"Let me make this easier – I told your mother in very plain English that I have no intention of relinquishing or abusing my position as your trustee, regardless of whatever threats or incentives she may offer, and that applies to you, too. I may only be a half-blood, but I am as much Black as I am Tonks, and believe me when I say that if I am approached again, you will discover exactly how creative I can be. So if there isn't anything else...?" She turned, uninterested in his response, but stopped when he spoke.

"Actually, I wished to speak with you regarding another matter entirely, but I do thank you for your diligence and honour regarding the trust."

Snape enjoyed the rare sight of a dumbfounded Nymphadora Tonks. Her general lack of grace left her in so many potentially-discomfiting situations that they had become commonplace, and she accepted them carelessly, a quality that Severus admitted, if only to himself, he envied.

"Would you care to sit down, Cousin Tonks?"

Since the girl was too stunned – by Draco's polite tone or form of address? – to respond, Severus moved the chair behind her just slightly so it touched the back of her knees, and she obligingly dropped into it.

"Since when does your family acknowledge the relationship?" was her belligerent response.

"I'm practising disassociating myself from them; I thought this would be a good way to start."

Severus crossed to the cabinet and poured a second glass of brandy. Before setting the bottle down he reconsidered and poured a third. He handed one to Tonks before taking his own seat.

Snape knew that the excessive politeness which was a common form of communication in Slytherin house would not be Draco's best conversation style for this discussion. Hufflepuff that she was, it would only serve to annoy her, and he hoped Draco would realize this sooner rather than later.

"Disassociating?" Her disbelief was clear. "In what way?"

"I'm not going to be a Death Eater, to start."

Snape mentally awarded points on Draco's behalf. To the best of his knowledge, Tonks had never before spit her beverage in shock.

"Why not?" The incredulity would have been flattering if it had come from anyone on the other side. "I thought you were a–" Knowing from his many eavesdropping sessions that the Gryffindor trio were friendly with his cousin, it wasn't hard for Draco to fill in the blank.

"A Death Eater in training?"

She nodded, and he explained the type of service the Dark Lord wanted from him and the complication that had been introduced at his_ Prīncipium_.

The Metamorphmagus was clearly shocked – her hair, which had been a flaming red when she arrived, drained black. Knowing Narcissa was an anomaly in the Black family, Snape assumed it was Tonks' natural colour. Draco's surprise made it evident that he'd never been told of his cousin's talent, but he quickly found it amusing.

When she recovered, her response attested to why she had been accepted into the Auror program. "You want me to stand for you if– If?" when Draco nodded, she continued, "if Harry agrees?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Draco opened his mouth to enumerate the reasons why she was the obvious choice, but something in her face stopped him.

"Because Potter will feel more comfortable with you, and you might appreciate the chance to thwart your aunts."

Nymphadora Tonks threw back her head and laughed.

* * *

_Hunger_.

Harry woke early Sunday morning feeling ravenous and not particularly well rested. Identifying the reason behind his hunger was nearly enough to turn him off the idea of food again. Harry knew he'd be unable to return to sleep even if he did grab some of his chocolate stash to stay his stomach, and none of his roommates were stirring yet, so Harry grabbed his toiletry kit and headed for the prefects' bath – the opportunity to use it, legitimately, was one of the advantages of being Quidditch captain.

Quite a while later, Harry found himself on the way to the library equipped with his Charms text for camouflage, wondering what _exactly_ he was going to tell Ron if he got caught in the library of his own volition early on a Sunday morning.

As expected, it looked like most of the information on _Fidelitās Dominō_ was kept in the Restricted Section – not surprising, given the dangerous nature of the subject. Since Dumbledore had been very specific in his warnings, and Harry wasn't a complete idiot, he assumed that asking Madam Pince for assistance would be a bad idea.

Ignoring the possibility of a pass for the moment, Harry found in the regular collection quite a bit about Eustacia Sigismund and why she had created the bond in the first place. It was a vengeance spell, really, intended to punish the brothers whose swearing of false allegiance led to the betrayal of her father and his murder.

Harry also found a few things which reiterated what he had managed to retain from the meeting – the bond was complicated, uncontrollable, and permanent. He was disconcerted to discover that even with the advantages of equal status within the bond, he would have considerable power over Malfoy. Legally, Malfoy wouldn't even be able to get his Apparition licence or marry without his permission. Thankfully, there was a chance that they wouldn't have to be in each other's pockets all of the time, but it depended on the bond itself and was not something that could be predicted before the bonding.

Seeing the father of the _vectigal_ mentioned on the next page, Harry closed the book and returned to the stacks.

It was very easy to find information on the adoption spell once he discovered that it was generally referred to as the strongest classification of the mentor spells, rather than by a specific name of its own. The Apprenticeship Guilds had woven a number of spells together to ease the magical demands that were needed repeatedly – often daily – through the duration of the apprenticeship. To a certain extent, the apprentice was granted the status of a child of the house: amongst other things, the mentor spells would permit the apprentice to travel through the property wards or to see and enter rooms that were hidden to those not blood kin, while enabling the Guildsmaster to supervise and protect his apprentice from a moderate distance.

Some years after the creation of the combined spell, an enterprising Journeyman modified the mentoring spell in turn, hoping to craft as his masterwork a spell that would create closer ties between he and his wife and their adopted children. Much to their delight, he was successful, and the adoption spell soon became more common than its predecessor. Some traits of the original mentor spells remained, regardless of attempts to understand or alter them: the adoption form of the spell had never been successful on someone older than seventeen, the traditional age one would petition the Guild, and the adopting parent would have to assume custody for no less than three years, the duration of the shortest possible apprenticeship.

It was a simple rite: the power was generated by the intent and emotions of the participants, rather than their magical abilities or the ritual itself. There was a range of types from the mild, which allowed the household wards to recognize fostered children, to the very strong, which essentially replaced a biological parent, complete with physical characteristics, used primarily in cases where the child was conceived in rape. Harry had taken enough Muggle science to be caught off guard by that.

He looked up, then, and realized that it was getting to be late enough that people would be up, even on a post-Hogsmeade Sunday. He closed the book, deliberated for a moment, and decided to borrow the text on mentor spells. It wasn't inconceivable that he'd have heard of them on his own, and whether Madam Pince thought he was interested in a father or a possible apprenticeship after Hogwarts, he didn't think it would be too suspicious.

Neither Ron nor Hermione was in the common room, and only Seamus, snoring loudly, was still in the dorm when Harry tucked his books away. Harry caught up with his friends as they were heading to lunch, and since he really wasn't in the mood to see Dumbledore, Snape, or Malfoy, he convinced them to join him for a picnic in the Room of Requirement. In exchange, he willingly settled down with Hermione and a reluctant Ron for several hours of N.E.W.T. prep in the afternoon. Harry was particularly pleased with the arrangement since his new library book was not terribly large, and Hermione rightly expected that he and Ron were still at the "catching up on the readings" stage of their studying. Harry simply put his small book inside the larger text, curled up on the floor in a corner where no one could come up behind him, and read what he liked. Even better, since he hadn't put up a fuss about studying, when Hermione decided that it was time to test for comprehension, she left Harry alone and only quizzed Ron.

That the prize for correct answers appeared to be a kiss from the examiner made Harry even more pleased that he was being ignored. Suggesting to his friends that they take advantage of the nice weather by walking around the lake before dinner meant that Harry was free to run to the kitchens for something to eat without having to explain why he was avoiding the Great Hall. On Mondays he had a training session with Dumbledore as well as Potions with Snape and the Slytherins, so he would have to face all of them then, but for today he was happy in his world of denial and avoidance.

Much later, when even his year mates had gone up to bed – Hermione with a caution not to stay up too late – Harry was left to his own thoughts. He stared at the fire for a while and played the arguments, both for and against, over and over in his head, as he had all day. Finally, he stood and moved purposefully toward the door. One quick errand and then it was time for bed.

* * *

_Dear Remus,_

_Hope you're well. Wednesday's Transfig practical was even harder than McGonagall said it would be, Hermione is sure she lost at least 5 marks._

_Saturday was Hogsmeade, Christmas shopping is all done._

_Any chance you can come up to Hogwarts? As soon as possible? I'm alright, not in trouble or anything, I just have something I want to talk about._

_Best,_

_Harry_


	5. Thicker Than Water

_I'm very sorry for the delay in posting this, but you'll be happy to hear that when things weren't going well, I procrastinated by working on the next chapter. I can (almost) guarantee the wait will be much shorter for it._

_All rights to the world of _Harry Potter_ belong to J.K. Rowling and a number of very large corporations, none of which is me, and I do not intend to make any money whatsoever from this endeavour._

_Particular thanks must be given to my lovely Betas Tithenai and, particularly, Phoenix Writing who have helped make this a much better story in both style and content. Any mistakes which remain are, indubitably, my own, particularly since neither has seen the chapter in its entirety._

_Additional notes are available before the prologue._

_Constructive criticism is always very much appreciated._

Originally posted 05 July '06; edited version posted 18 May '07

**Thicker than Water**

Harry suspected that even if he did get really fed up with being the 'Saviour of the Wizarding World' and decided to just quit it all, he wouldn't last very long; simply having done _something_ about Malfoy's situation allowed Harry a much more restful sleep than he'd had the night before. As a result, waking up Monday morning was only as difficult as usual, and if his housemates found him a bit quieter than normal at breakfast, well, he was facing an entire afternoon of Potions. That would not be enough to mollify Ron and Hermione, but in response to some less than subtle questioning while studying yesterday afternoon, Harry had finally told his friends – and it wasn't a lie _exactly_ – that Dumbledore had wanted to discuss scheduling plans for the holidays, confirming that Remus would be assisting if he could but also that there would be additional sessions with Snape.

The professors unintentionally gave credence to Harry's excuse, Dumbledore with his worried glances and Snape with his displeased sneer. Malfoy wasn't a concern, since he sat facing away from the Gryffindor table, spoke with almost no one, and stayed for the shortest amount of time possible. Harry was especially grateful for that, since he had no idea how he was supposed to act around the boy whose fate he was deciding.

Harry looked up eagerly when he heard the arrival of the owl post, only partly because he was hopeful that Remus would reply this morning. He'd always looked forward to the morning mail, even during the years when he'd never expected to get letters at all. More than anything else, the arrival of the post made the wizarding world feel real. From the acceptance letters, to Hedwig, to that first morning at breakfast as a Gryffindor, so much of his experience, so much of _Hogwarts_, began with the post.

The birds were beautiful as they entered, in such a variety of colours and sizes. He watched as the owls circled, looking for the recipients of their letters and parcels and for places to land. With a soft smile born of pleasure and nostalgia, Harry noticed his own beautiful snowy owl headed towards the Gryffindor table. He took a moment before reading the note she carried to give her a rasher of bacon and thank her for her prompt return.

Post for Harry was no longer the rare occurrence it had once been, and his best friends were sufficiently distracted by their own deliveries – the _Daily Prophet_ for Hermione, and a letter from the twins for Ron – that they smiled when they saw his letter and, thankfully, ignored him.

The letter was typically Remus – a chatty update of the household and business, punctuated by witty commentary which was just the slightest bit wry. He wrote at least a short bit nearly every day, rather like one would a journal, and mailed the lot once or twice a week. Today, however, Harry was most interested in the part which would have been added last night after Hedwig arrived, so he turned immediately to the last page:

_... anytime, Harry, you know that. I'm _

_available indefinitely as of Wednesday, _

_but if you'd like to meet earlier, I can _

_reschedule things a bit. Since you've _

_just had your last Hogsmeade day, is _

_this an official invitation, or would you _

_prefer to run into each other while I _

_visit old haunts?_

_Let me know when and where._

_Take care,_

_Remus_

Harry hadn't thought about the logistics of meeting when he'd sent the letter last night, and he wasn't sure he wanted the headmaster to know about Remus's visit. He had, however, promised Dumbledore that he wouldn't discuss the situation without permission. He mulled possibilities for a moment, but before he had a chance to decide what to do, Hermione caught his attention, reminding him that they had to get to class.

* * *

Despite finding out he'd not done as poorly as he'd feared on last week's Transfiguration test, Harry had a difficult class. He absorbed almost nothing during the theory lesson and lost quite a few points in his distraction_. I just hope I'll be able to borrow Hermione's notes before Wednesday's practical; I won't have much of a chance otherwise_, he thought as he headed to the headmaster's office with an unusual sense of trepidation – his training sessions were generally interesting and not something he avoided.

Since Harry would be graduating at the end of the school year and leaving the relative safety of Hogwarts, a number of hours each week were dedicated to learning the skills he would need to defeat and defend against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Because of the importance of the training and the amount of time and effort Harry would be required to devote to it, Remus and, somewhat surprisingly, Snape persuaded Dumbledore to convince the Ministry to grant Harry a course credit in Defence. Even those who were unaware of Trelawney's prophesy and Harry's significance in it admitted that the Boy Who Lived was a favourite target of You Know Who, and it would be in Harry's best interest to be prepared, so Dumbledore had agreed.

The task was made easier by the improved relations between the Order of the Phoenix and the current Ministry. As Minister for Magic, Amelia Bones was neither as blind nor as self-aggrandizing as Fudge had been, and if not a member of the Order herself, she was at least a tentative ally. She agreed to give Harry a Career Advancement Training Subject credit retroactively; to be listed as a course during term, it would have to be open to other students, which they didn't want to do. In the meantime, nothing was stated directly, but it was generally assumed by the incredibly naive that Harry was serving an internship with the headmaster.

Career Advancement Training Subjects were highly specialized courses offered by the Ministry; a select few were offered each year at Hogwarts, primarily for those students who knew what they intended to do after graduation and wanted to get a head-start professionally. Very few students opted to take even one, especially while preparing for NEWTS, since they were so time-consuming, advanced, and limited in application; indeed, in all of the classes there was a combined total of only fifteen seventh-years.

Seamus and Ron both opted to take Introduction to Wizarding Law. Seamus registered because he intended to sit on the Wizengamot one day; Ron was attempting to placate his mother, who was disappointed that he was attempting so few NEWTS and didn't approve of 'possible professional quidditch keeper' as a career choice. He thought it would be useful if he eventually went to work for the Ministry, and he was enjoying it, much to his surprise.

In Gryffindor tower, there was a rumour that Hermione's schedule was set first and then the other course sections were added afterwards to lessen the chance of course conflicts. Harry didn't doubt it. He was reasonably certain she was not using a time-turner, but her schedule was incredibly demanding. She hadn't decided what she intended to do after graduation, but she refused to let that prevent her from additional information: she was one of only three students who had registered for two CATSubjects, and that was in addition to her nine NEWTS. She was taking The Language and Art of Spellcrafting – "the creation of spells is terribly fascinating, really" – and Healing – "because you won't stop playing Quidditch or fighting Voldemort, and I feel it's only fair to Madam Pomfrey." Harry wanted to take offence at that but, on reflection, decided he really couldn't.

Harry's own program consisted of at least three sessions per week: one with Dumbledore, one with Snape, and one with any Order members who were available. He was learning a variety of skills – including strategy and tactics, Occlumency and Legilimency, offensive and defensive duelling – which would help him fight Voldemort. They would also allow him to be exempted from nearly a year of Auror training.

This meant his schedule was even busier than he'd expected, particularly since in addition to his five NEWT courses, he was unofficially the fourth student taking a second CATSubject.

Harry's second subject – and, rather ironically, the one he could admit to publicly – was in the Theory of the Dark Arts. Dumbledore had offered many bribes when trying to persuade Snape to resume Harry's Occlumency lessons, but Snape had accepted none of them. After his conversation with Remus, however, the Potions master agreed on the condition that he be allowed to teach the course. Dumbledore and then the Ministry had eventually capitulated, though they had insisted on additional restrictions on the students' enrollment. Students considering the course were required to submit applications explaining why they were requesting admittance and even then could not be accepted without approval from both the teacher and the headmaster. The course was challenging and, considering it was mostly theoretical and who was teaching it, surprisingly fun.

Today, however, was going to be much more difficult than a debate on the significance of conscience and intent on the spell energy generated in a casting. Dumbledore's Monday sessions were usually reserved for theory or strategy and were held in the headmaster's office, which meant there wouldn't be duels or 'wand-waving' to act as distractions, and Harry was not ready for an intense conversation.

He entered the office and found Dumbledore alone, which relieved him. Harry had feared that Snape – and possibly even Malfoy, though the Slytherin had Charms this period – would be there demanding an answer Harry wasn't prepared to give.

"Good morning, Harry. Please sit down." The headmaster waved toward the area at the back of the office where they usually held his lessons.

Much to Harry's surprise, they spent a productive and relatively pleasant morning avoiding the subject that dominated both their thoughts. In fact, Dumbledore waited until nearly lunch before broaching the topic. He sat back in his chair, watching as Harry collected his notes and said, so quietly that Harry almost missed it, "I assume you have not yet reached a decision on the matter we discussed on Saturday."

Harry stilled and did his best not to squirm in his seat. "No, sir."

"Time is of the essence, and there are arrangements to be made in either event, so I must ask that once you have made a decision that you inform me immediately, regardless of what that decision is." Dumbledore's gaze was piercing over his glasses and made Harry very uncomfortable.

"I'm... still thinking about it."

"A definite maybe, then."

Harry smiled half-heartedly and grabbed his bag hoping that would be the end of the discussion – their session _was_ almost over – but the older man continued. "No doubt you have questions." He walked toward his desk, and Harry saw his chance at escape vanishing.

"Yes, but – " Harry stopped when he recognized the paper in Dumbledore's hand.

"This may be of use." He handed Harry two sheets, one of them the restricted section pass. "I have not always been as forthcoming as I could have been with you, my boy. There were always valid reasons at the time, and I stand by many of my choices, but in the process I have damaged your trust. That grieves me a great deal." The headmaster paused a moment, and Harry thought he was expected to say something, though he didn't know what. The seventh-year Gryffindor was not the same sullen youth he had been two years ago, but he still chaffed at the expectation that he should tell everything yet only receive vague hints of real information – and the inevitable scoldings – in exchange.

Eventually, his professor continued: "This is a lifelong commitment and is not something to be undertaken lightly or in ignorance. I have included a list of texts which should prove informative, but the pass itself is unlimited, and I ask that you not abuse the privilege." Harry glanced at the second sheet and recognized the titles of a number of the texts from his research the day before.

"Should you have questions or aspects you wish to discuss, I am available to you, of course, but I know I am not unbiased in this matter. Clearly, anything I tell you would be suspect for that reason alone." Harry nodded, grateful that the headmaster was both aware of that and able to admit it.

They spent the next few minutes discussing the relative merits of several books on the list. When they were finished, Dumbledore had one more question: "Is there anything else you would care to discuss?"

Harry hesitated a moment but still couldn't find a way to phrase his request without the other man reaching the obvious conclusion. "Actually, I was hoping Remus could visit," Harry said, meeting the headmaster's gaze evenly. _It's not like he wouldn't have found out eventually_.

"Of course. In this instance he is certainly the most impartial of your traditional advisers, and the need for secrecy does limit your resources. You may discuss the situation with him, provided you are in a secure location." They stood then, to join everyone in the Great Hall for lunch, but as they reached the door, the headmaster paused. "If you are intending to request that he perform the Mentoring bond with you, I will caution you against mentioning the _Fidelitās Dominō_ ritual to Remus until after that conversation. The bond responds to the emotional needs of the participants, and a doubting of true commitment on the part of either participant could forge a lesser level of bond."

Harry's expression must have reflected the dismay he felt because his professor elaborated with a troubled look, "It is not Remus's love for you that would be in doubt, Harry: it's your faith in it." As Harry tried to process that, the older man continued, "The moon will pass the first quarter this weekend, and the second phase will begin its cycle. The bond will have to be accepted then, and there are calculations and plans to be made beforehand. Perhaps a deadline of Thursday?"

Harry was ushered through the door before he had a chance to respond.

"I do hope we have treacle tart for dessert, don't you?"

* * *

_Dear Remus,_

_Wednesday's fine, and I've just _

_spoken with the headmaster, and _

_it's an official invitation._

_Thanks,_

_Harry_

_P.S. Sorry this is so short._

* * *

Without the headmaster's report, Potter's unusually intense concentration as he prepared the day's potion with Granger and his refusal to acknowledge or even look at anyone else would have been terrifying; with it, his actions were merely disheartening. The only consolation was that the Gryffindor was putting more thought into the situation than he did into the majority of his capers. He'd spent part of Sunday in the library, and the headmaster had given him a pass to the restricted section, though without the Granger girl's guidance, it was doubtful how efficient his search would be.

A quick conversation with Draco before the seventh year Potions class had alleviated another concern – his godson's wandwork in Charms had not been perfectly executed or up to his usual strength, but it was not noticeably weaker than it had been on Saturday. Snape assumed that the suspension of his magical deterioration was primarily due to Draco's confidence that Potter would soon agree to the bonding. Coupled with Snape's invitation to perform the adoption and Tonks' agreement to act as Standfast, Draco's future was not as bleak as it had appeared two days ago.

When Draco arrived for their lab that evening, Severus had him run through a series of spells and confirmed that the deterioration had slowed significantly, though he knew it would not be long before a continued lack of commitment on Potter's part would reactivate it.

Potter appeared to have made his decision regarding the adoption ritual, pleasing the headmaster with his choice, and Albus was confident that Harry's apprehension would last only until he spoke with Remus Lupin. The likeliest candidates for Potter to approach about the adoption had been Lupin or the Weasleys; for the most part, Snape agreed with Dumbledore's preference for Lupin. In addition to being far less emotional about Harry's role in the war, he was less likely to forget that Harry had not always been his child, that he had been forced by circumstance to grow up quickly, and that he was, in fact, seventeen.

Severus would be father to Potter's bonded – it was still a strange concept, as he'd barely managed to be a tolerable son and certainly never expected to live long enough to have a child of his own. Watching Draco deftly chop, measure, and stir ingredients, he remembered the first years after the defeat of the Dark Lord, when Lucius had been far too concerned with the rebuilding of his standing at the Ministry to remember that he had a family. Severus had spent many hours at the Manor with his godson, and Draco's interest in potions developed early. Even as a small child he enjoyed watching as Severus prepared them and assisting once he was old enough. It was several years before Lucius realized that Severus held more influence with the Malfoy heir than he did and began to spend more time with his son.

Lucius eventually asked that Severus refrain from visiting unless specifically invited, and Severus knew even then that few invitations would materialize. It left him with a vague sense of relief that he wouldn't have to watch Draco light up at attention from the man who'd ignored him for years or see him scramble out of the lab at the sight of a broomstick. It also left him with a very clear, very strong sense of sorrow.

It was Lucius' right as Draco's father to limit influences on his child as he chose, to raise him as he saw fit, but Severus wondered with malicious satisfaction how long it would take Lucius to realize that he himself and his own actions were responsible for turning Draco from his Malfoy heritage.

Severus had gone from surrogate father to casual family friend, then became head of house, professor, and professional mentor. The bonding would be a regression of sorts and a challenge, as he returned to father, particularly since as teacher and head of house his primary responsibilities were disciplinary, without the familiarity and comfort that belonged in a family. The introduction of the Gryffindors and the complicated relationships they had with both Slytherins would only make the transition more difficult.

For a minimum of three years but likely for the rest of his life, he would have significant dealings with both Harry Potter and whomever he chose as his guardian: for Draco's sake and his own, he would much prefer Lupin.

Introducing Draco into any existing relationship with the Weasleys would be difficult. With very few exceptions given the size of the clan, the family was indivisible, and any connection to one member would necessitate contact with them all. A congenial or even neutral relationship between Draco and the youngest Weasley boy would be difficult enough with just the friendship between Ronald and Harry to consider. Inserting Draco into another Weasley familial relationship would create a territorial battle that would not in any way benefit the _Fidelitās Dominō_ bonding. Snape wasn't certain as to the source of the antagonism – simply being 'Malfoy' and 'Weasley' would have sufficed, but the interactions between Draco and the rest of the family were not as volatile. He was willing to wager, however, that Harry Potter played a large part in whatever it was.

Molly and Arthur defended Snape to their children and admirably so, considering he had taught Potions to all seven of their Gryffindor offspring with less than glowing reviews from either side. The only two who showed any aptitude at all for the subject had been far more interested in using class time for pranks than learning. Despite the public support of the elder Weasleys, however, they were uncomfortable with the Darkness he carried in both magic and spirit. Knowing what they did, what he had to do as a Death Eater, that he'd done it willingly for a time, that he could conceal his treachery so efficiently from the Dark Lord – it made them nervous, and understandably so. The Weasleys kept as far from Dark magics as possible, and none of them knew what it was to carry Darkness within oneself. Remus Lupin, for all his faults, did.

Lupin had to battle his own Darkness on a monthly basis. It was less of a struggle when he had regular access to the Wolfsbane Potion, but any attempt at a variation which would allow a painless physical transformation had thus far been unsuccessful, and the emotional and social challenges of his condition would never fully be eradicated. Remus was insightful enough to recognize the similarities between his life as a werewolf and a boy trying to become a man while fighting the Darkness surrounding him.

Knowing that Harry intended to ask Lupin to be part of the bonding would have additional benefits. Astronomy charts and arithmancy tables were necessary to balance the ritual and needed to be calculated beforehand. Advance knowledge would allow sufficient time to adapt them appropriately, since significant accommodations would have to be made if one of the participants was subject to a lunar-based condition. Lupin would not have the strength necessary to participate in aspects of the _Fidelitās Dominō_ bonding during the full phase of the moon unless he was transformed, and the werewolf form was not conducive to practising magic.

Severus was forced to abandon his contemplations as Draco caught his attention. The burn salve they would be brewing was extremely volatile while it was being assembled and required concentration.

Once the potion was ready to simmer, Snape graded the seventh years' afternoon work while Draco, attempting some form of active participation in his own life, began to do some of the preliminary arithmantic calculations. Each was checking the colour and consistency regularly and stirring infrequently. It needed to do nothing but simmer for several hours, but if any of the three cauldrons experienced the slightest change in colour or texture, the results could be disastrous.

They worked on their respective tasks in silence for nearly an hour before Draco broke the silence.

"My father and the Dark Lord will assume, for a short while at least, that any inconsistencies in my magic levels or control will be part of my adjustment to my new... position. It's no secret that I expected to be a leader, not a pet."

The tone Draco used to speak of the 'honour' being bestowed upon him by the Dark Lord would have been enough to convince Snape that the young man would have no chance of returning to Voldemort's presence, let alone his service. Fortunately, the lab was well warded against sound and visitors, so Severus made a noncommital sound and let him continue. Draco had no other audience for his concerns and was too likely to erupt in the most public and damaging manner if he wasn't able to express them. His apprentice returned to his own thoughts for several minutes, however, and Severus had almost decided that he'd chosen not to take advantage of the opportunity when he spoke again.

"I hate the uncertainty, really, really hate it, but I'm not ready to hear him say 'no.' This is the only option where I have any chance at all."

"Draco–"

"Uncle Severus," he interrupted, looking up for the first time, "please. You know as well as I do that I can't return to his service. Even if you weren't killed for this betrayal, Aunt Bella would use it to try to convince the Dark Lord that you are the traitor in his ranks. You know she would. She's been trying to for years. And she'd succeed this time. It looks too suspicious; he'd have to make an example of you. Then we'd both be dead."

Neither of them spoke again for the remainder of the evening.

* * *

With some patient questioning and sly innuendo at breakfast the next morning, Severus managed to establish that Minerva had a theoretical lesson planned for the Slytherin's first period Transfiguration class. Since Draco's other course of the morning was History of Magic, he would not have to expend copious amounts of energy worrying that he would be summoned to the hospital wing on Draco's behalf. Instead, he spent the first period of the day terrorizing the first year Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw class, a rather unsatisfying use of his time since they were a notoriously timid group to begin with.

Already feeling irritable, Snape sat at his desk and waited for the knock on his office door. His wards had informed him that Harry Potter had arrived for his Occlumency lesson and was standing outside. Nearly five minutes later, he still hadn't knocked. At one time he would have revelled in Potter's nervousness; today, it was maddening.

When they resumed their lessons a year and a half ago, they knew that working together would be difficult. They considered third-party mediation but gave up the idea when they couldn't agree on a sufficiently neutral party for the task. Instead, they each drank calming draughts for their first several meetings and on more than one occasion resorted to a timed silencing spell to guarantee that they each had equal and uninterrupted speaking time. It had been the only means of communicating effectively after so many years of baiting and antagonism.

Once they established that Harry was working almost entirely on instinct, Severus set a series of painstakingly detailed lessons. Potter would no doubt have objected vociferously to them, but after his complaints the previous year that Snape wasn't teaching and the boy's role in the death of his godfather, Harry was resigned and determined to learn, regardless of the unpleasantness.

It was largely chance that another consequence of their prior working relationship had eventually revealed itself: it had taken them a ridiculously long time, but they finally recognized the difficulties Harry was having absorbing the emotions released after he dropped his mental shields. Since most often the residual emotions were anger and frustration and those seemed to be a natural consequence of working together, both Harry and Severus were, in fact, grateful that they had managed to hold themselves together for hours rather than minutes. The actual source of the emotions having been identified, both their working relationship and Harry's abilities seemed to be improving, and with more practice and effort, their lessons had evolved again into a careful truce.

Lately, the boy's mood after releasing his shields tended to be melancholy or sullen – still negative emotions but passive ones and generally easier to throw off. It was a source of great frustration for Snape that he couldn't identify the reason for the change; he was unable to explain what was working or why and had absolutely _no_ idea what prompted the fit of giggles Potter reported after a session practising in his dorm. He was careful to share his frustration with his student in an academic sense rather than an aggressive one, however, and their sessions this term had been productive, informative, and exhausting but ultimately satisfying. Having Harry revert to his past behaviour patterns was aggravating. When the knock finally sounded, Severus responded with a terse bark.

"Enter."

The professor and student stared at each other for several long minutes as Harry stood nervously in front of the desk. There was a strength, a defiance, in his expression, Snape recognized from the faces of the strongest of the Death Eaters' victims, the ones who held out the longest, who died before betraying their secrets or their honour. It was an expression which was too familiar on this child. This time, though it was accompanied by something else, something that might have been disappointment or possibly hurt.

"Have a seat."

Rather than waving Harry to the wooden chairs in front of the desk, designed to discourage lengthy discussion and to punish those forced to endure it, Severus gestured toward one of the comfortable sitting chairs in front of the fire. Coming around the desk to claim the other, the Head of Slytherin nearly smiled as the boy's jaw dropped. Even with their improved working relationship, they did not have cozy chats by the fire, and Harry hadn't regained his equilibrium by the time Severus was seated.

"Today, Potter." The instruction was not mild but certainly held less abrasion than usual.

It was enough to snap Harry out of his shock, and with a slight stumble, he took his seat.

"Tea?"

At Severus' quiet inquiry, a tea service appeared on the small table next to his chair, and Harry shook his head, either in response to the question or to clear it before responding hesitantly, "No, thank you."

Severus nodded absently and prepared his own tea slowly, using the time to collect his thoughts and evaluate the situation. A spy was required to react and adapt, and, as evidenced by the fact that he was not yet dead, Snape was quite good at it. What he wasn't accustomed to was having to use those skills in response to his own impulses.

He sipped his tea and watched the boy over the rim of his cup. Because there was no secret that the Dark Lord wanted into Potter's mind or that Harry was as determined to keep him out, their lessons had focussed on strength rather than discretion. As a result, Harry's shields were visible if one knew how to look for them: visible but thick and well-anchored. Severus knew of perhaps three wizards – none of them Voldemort – who would be able to get past them, even with the advantages of physical proximity. Unfortunately for Potter, one of them was in the room.

"Good," he remarked as he put his cup down.

Harry's uncertainty was evident as he looked from his professor to the tea cup. "Sir?"

Snape gave him a patronizing look, more to punish him for being obtuse and lacking in subtlety than out of any real spite.

"Your shielding – it's solid. You're well prepared for an attack." There was the slightest bit of a question layered in the praise.

"Well, you're –" Too late, Harry clamped his lips together.

Severus sipped his tea, then asked mildly, "I'm what?"

Harry shrugged, hoping the question would be dropped, but Snape watched silently as the silence became uncomfortable, and the boy continued, "I thought you'd try to break my barriers."

"Hmm. Why would you expect that?"

It _could_ have been a fair question, as the typical pattern for their lessons lately had involved watching Harry build shields and lower them as they tried to discover the source of Harry's problem with dissipating the protections. It could have been, but it wasn't. Snape was toying with Harry, and they were both aware of it.

From his panicked expression, Severus assumed he'd begun raising his shields quite a while before and layered them for added strength. It was a successful tactic and would be even more so when he could control the reversion. At the moment, however, the greater the duration and power of his shields, the greater the probability of an emotional onslaught.

Harry's next comment made it clear he'd decided to suggest dropping them entirely as a diversion. "They should peel off; that's how I put them up. It might be easier to see what I'm doing wrong."

It was a nice attempt. He didn't lie and claim he'd done it intentionally, and he was careful to assume all the blame for his lack of success – not bad, for a Gryffindor.

"That's quite alright. I'm interested in seeing how well you can maintain those levels." His voice was carefully bland and remained so as he said, "I find it interesting you chose such strong fortifications; I'd think you had something to hide, if we hadn't moved past that months ago." Knowing full well that his original plan had been to 'attack' as Harry tended to term it and that he still would if this tack failed, the comment was calculated to yank the Gryffindor's tail. Judging from the way Potter shot straight up in his chair, it was successful.

"_I_ thought we'd moved past manipulation."

Snape allowed himself a small smirk. "I promised Lupin I'd teach you Occlumency and try to remember that you are your own person, not that I'd impersonate a Hufflepuff." He watched the boy fight a response – a smile? – as he finished his tea and placed his cup on the table. "Why are your shields up, Harry?" The use of his given name was rare and deliberate.

"Because after the meeting in Dumbledore's office, I expected you to attack to find out about the Dursleys," Harry admitted reluctantly.

Severus nodded. "And you'd prefer to keep it hidden."

"Yes."

"You didn't think that perhaps your secrets could hinder you? That with that sort of information we could better understand your behaviour, predict your responses in battle," Snape let his voice get just a bit harder, "find a solution to your difficulties in dissipating?"

Harry looked as though he suspected Snape was fabricating reasons to justify his prying, but he didn't have facts with which to contradict.

"I will make you a deal, Mr. Potter."

Severus was gratified to see the nervousness in Harry's expression in response to the offer and amused to see it laced with curiosity.

"Tell me. Everything. And I won't attack – Today. Should I discover at a future time that you withheld significant details, you will not be able to hide _anything_." There was enough of a reaction to the threat that Snape was tempted to do it regardless, simply to see what had Harry so terrified.

"About the Dursleys." Defiantly.

"About your childhood, and you will answer any questions I have for clarification on the subject," Snape countered.

Harry agreed reluctantly and added, "_Only_ for today." Since he was repeating a condition Snape had already set out, he nodded, granting it without argument. It was tempting to see if he could use the point to gain another concession, but he did need Harry to commit to the _Fidelitās Dominō_.

It is impossible to win if you are not willing to sacrifice a pawn to save the queen.

Severus took the next couple of moments to refill his tea cup and to pour a second which he passed to Harry. No further conditions were forthcoming, so he asked, "Are we agreed?"

Harry cautiously accepted both the tea and the terms, and Severus made one further demand.

"Remove your shields."

Harry's head shot up, and his voice was shrill, "_What?_"

"If you're not intending to lie, you have no need of them, and I will easily be able to gauge your honesty." Severus expected him to recognize that this point was not open for negotiation, and after a few moments of silent pleading, Harry nodded. He closed his eyes and took down his mental shields before speaking.

"After my parents died, Dumbledore left me with my mother's sister, Petunia, and her husband, Vernon. The Dursleys. They hate me." He opened his eyes, cold and hard. "It's mutual. They think I'm a freak – that all wizards are freaks – and they say so, often. I was left on the doorstep, with a letter. I assume it had some sort of threat, they wouldn't have kept me otherwise, and later – " He broke off and tilted his head as if he were listening to something; a moment later he shook his head to clear it and in response to Snape's impatient look added, "The Dursleys' greatest ambition is to be exactly the same as everyone else – just a little bit better, but exactly the same. And magic is _different_ – _I _was different, so I didn't belong."

"The first question I can ever remember asking my aunt was how I got my scar." He brought his hand to his head almost unconsciously and rubbed angrily at the mark. "She told me it was from the car crash that killed my parents." Severus absorbed that, and Harry continued bitterly, "And then she told me not to ask questions. And she meant it. My aunt and uncle liked it best when they could pretend I didn't exist and ignore me as much as possible." His eyes dropped to his hands, now in his lap, and he picked forcefully at his sleeve.

"I had to wear my cousin's old clothes – which looked _ridiculous_ as he's the size of a beached whale, and I was nearly always the smallest in the class. I got glasses only when the school nurse insisted, and Dudley and his friends broke them in the first week, and I had to Sellotape them together. When asked, my aunt said I needed a lesson in caring for my belongings – as if Dudley didn't have an entire second bedroom for his broken toys!"

Severus briefly considered giving Harry a calming potion to counter the added vulnerability of the dropped shields. He wanted to know the truth about how Harry felt about his Muggle relatives and how he was treated there, and it was clear even after a few moments that resentment and bitterness were going to be prevalent in the telling. The details of the story would be the same regardless, and if Harry became too emotional to continue his narration, he would not be willing to resume it later.

On several occasions he'd overheard various Order members speculating about why Harry never spoke about his family, his childhood. In recent years, there had been less speculation but still few details. But one of Dumbledore's favourite topics of admonition over late-night tea was the need for human beings to share, and Snape suspected that even Harry's closest friends hadn't been told everything, so he decided not to deny Potter whatever the dubious benefits of sharing were.

"Was she aware that your cousin was responsible for the damage? Did you have a history of carelessness with your belongings?" Though the questions were as objective as he could make them, Harry's reply was indignant at the implications.

"I didn't have _belongings_ to break, and even if I had, Dudley would have found a way to take them. Besides, they wouldn't have fit into my cupboard – there was barely room for me."

"Cupboard?"

"I slept in the cupboard under the stairs until I was almost eleven." There was challenge in his voice and in his expression, suggesting his resentment wasn't confined entirely to the Muggles. "My Hogwarts letter came addressed to 'Mr. H. Potter, The Cupboard under the Stairs'; after that, they got scared and put me in Dudley's second bedroom."

"You lived in a three bedroom house and slept under the stairs until you were eleven," he repeated.

It wasn't really a question, but Harry answered with an earnest and cheery helpfulness that was patently false. "Four bedroom. There was a guest room for when Aunt Marge came to visit."

Severus made a mental note to speak with Minerva at the first available opportunity and prompted Harry to continue. "You mentioned the school nurse. Did she – your teacher, your friends' parents, whoever – did they not object?"

"I didn't _have_ friends; Dudley's gang beat up anyone who spoke to me. And even if I _had_ said anything, the adults wouldn't have believed me. No one _ever_ believed _me_."

Snape found that difficult to believe since he was usually the only one who doubted Harry's explanations. "I did accidental magic all the time," Harry continued defensively, "I didn't know how I ended up on the roof or how the glass broke! I couldn't give anyone a satisfactory answer – I didn't know I was a wizard or about magic at all until Hagrid came!"

Severus sat back in his chair. He knew that Harry had been raised by Muggles, obviously. It was one of Albus's pet conceits that Harry should grow up without the fame and drama of being 'Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived' – but to be unaware of magic!

The Snapes may not have been the most prestigious or wealthy of the pure-blood families in the wizarding world, but both his mother and step-father were of bloodlines that rivalled the Malfoys, and Severus was stunned that Harry, a _Potter_, should be raised without knowledge of his heritage.

The pride of that family in their magical ability and history... If James Potter's grandmother – a woman who made Augusta Longbottom look timid – had lived to know of it, she would have minced Dumbledore into pieces so small that nifflers wouldn't have been able to find them.

"Until Hagrid? I thought you were sent an acceptance letter."

"I was. Lots," he said with a twisted grimace. "I just wasn't allowed to open them. Uncle Vernon even took us away, so the post couldn't find us. Hagrid finally delivered the letter personally and brought me to Diagon Alley.

"Things got better after that – well, worse first, then better, but I always knew I had somewhere to go where I wasn't a freak." He thought about that for a moment then corrected ruefully, "At least, not that kind of freak."

"Worse?" Severus prompted, ignoring a pang of guilt that he couldn't let Harry turn to more pleasant topics.

"When I got back for summer vacation, Hedwig was padlocked in her cage so I couldn't send letters, and my schoolbooks were locked under the stairs – which made it a little difficult to do my summer assignments." Potter was evidently still bitter about that month of detentions as well. "Aside from that, it wasn't too bad until the Dursleys found out I wasn't allowed to do magic outside of school. Then they locked me in my room for the rest of the holidays."

Something in his distaste at the admission made Severus ask, "Literally?"

"Yeah. Bars on the windows and everything. They put a cat-flap on the door, and three times a day they pushed some food through it, not a lot but some." Severus deduced from the neutral tone that Harry was recovering from his emotional overload and that the portions Harry received could be termed generous only if compared to the servings given to the Death Eaters' prisoners. "Ron and the twins were worried that I hadn't answered their letters and finally came and broke me out. That was the first time I got to visit The Burrow." For the first time since entering the office, Harry smiled without mockery.

"Were Molly and Arthur told?" Snape was careful to keep his tone neutral as well. Very careful.

"Yes," he said, though his tone suggested he was hiding something.

"You're telling me that Molly Weasley was aware that a child was being abused, and she did _nothing_?" Having received howlers for the slightest of reprimands, the Potions professor found that unlikely.

"I'm not sure she actually believed us. Ron and the twins hadn't asked permission to leave and get me, exactly."

"She thought it was an exaggeration to get out of punishment," he stated bluntly.

"I reckon so."

"And you didn't mention it to her later?"

Harry shook his head. "I_ like_ the Burrow, they like me, there's no Boy Who Lived nonsense. I didn't want to talk about the Dursleys. I _never_ want to talk about the Dursleys." He directed a pointed look at his professor.

Snape ignored it. "And afterwards?"

"The twins taught Ron and me to pick locks the Muggle way, so the summer before third year wasn't bad at all, except for accidentally blowing up Aunt Marge when I lost my temper. The next year, I told them about my godfather who was arrested for murder and escaped from prison. Things were much better then, except for Dudley's diet, but my friends sent me food. The Dursleys wanted me there even less than I wanted to be there, and I never told them Sirius was innocent or about... the Department of Mysteries, so they left me alone."

"Severe emotional abuse and physical neglect, that was the extent of it?" Severus tried to keep his tone even, not belittling or accusatory, but wasn't able to tell from the boy's expression how well he succeeded.

"Aunt Petunia would sometimes swat at me with the nearest object, a frying pan or whatever, but she'd usually let me get away if I dodged. Uncle Vernon would shake me or yank my arm if I wasn't moving fast enough. Dudley was the worst, really, him and his friends, but they had to catch me first."

Severus _really_ didn't want to ask the next question but needed to know if that was the entirety of what he'd been hiding. "There was no... other... inappropriate..." Discomfited to hear himself stammer, he felt a profound sense of relief when he was interrupted.

"No," Harry answered. "Vernon's incredibly homophobic."

Snape raised an ironic eyebrow, and Harry continued, "Besides, the scandal of being caught would be huge, and that alone would have stopped him. He'd have been notorious. They were careful, really; anything that would have left bruises could have been explained as some sort of punishment that got out of hand."

Snape knew the next wasn't a question but a confirmation of fact, but he asked it regardless, "And the headmaster was aware of your situation?"

"Yeah." Snape thought the boy intended to leave it at that, but he continued, "He knew when he left me there he was condemning me to 'ten dark and difficult years.' Direct quote, that. He believed my mother's blood sacrifice was the only thing that could keep me safe, and he wouldn't let me leave if things were less than life threatening.

"I know the headmaster wanted me to stay with them even longer, but...," he shook his head helplessly, "I couldn't. Besides, the Dursleys were there when I got the letter from the Ministry congratulating me on my 'Coming of Age.' Uncle Vernon didn't want me performing magic in their home, and," his voice hardened, sounding more like Alastor Moody than any seventeen year old boy should, "I refused to surrender my wand."

Snape nodded, knowing that he, too, would have refused.

* * *

All things considered, Severus would have preferred to take lunch in his own rooms and process what he'd learned in solitude.

As Head of Slytherin, however, he was responsible for the students in his House: too many of them had been raised to be dismissive of Dumbledore and his authority, and they quickly taught the others. This late in the term, if Snape wanted his house to behave for the only other Slytherin Professor on staff – assuming the Astronomy professor was both conscious this early in the day and present for the meal – he needed to be in the hospital wing or give them advance notice and dire consequences. That not being possible, he was in the Great Hall watching Malfoy and Potter look anywhere but at each other and try to convince their respective friends that food had been consumed.

The Occlumency session had been remarkably successful, far more so than Snape would have predicted. Harry had left somewhat resentful, but they had not succumbed to the anger and frustration that had characterized their conflicts in the past.

Snape understood, finally, why Dumbledore continued to arrange matters so Harry and Severus were forced to spend significant amounts of time together, despite the anger and hatred, the danger should the Dark Lord discover the extent of it. In addition to Snape's connection, however tenuous, to James and Lily, Harry's background was closer to Severus's than either of them would be comfortable admitting. He, too, had been the child who didn't belong – rather than too magical, he had been too bookish, too ugly, or too Dark, but he was still shunted aside for talents he did not choose to possess.

Where Severus's own years at Hogwarts had been hellish, tormented as he was by James Potter and the Mauraders, the school had been instead a haven for Harry, where he was protected from his relatives and his cousin's gang.

Severus thought about the boy's childhood, his relatives, and his years at school, and he realized how very lucky the headmaster was that Harry had not become a Dark wizard himself.

Between Harry's upbringing with the Muggles and the pressure he faced, both from the Wizarding world in general and Albus in particular, it would not have been surprising if the boy had decided to abandon Dumbledore's cause entirely. Severus doubted that he would join Voldemort – the losses Potter had suffered at his hand were too bitter for that – but the child was repudiated so often by strangers and friends alike that he could decide at any time to become the next Dark Lord.

How... _propitious_ the boy was such a Gryffindor.

Severus knew Draco Malfoy had been given orders to befriend the boy, and if Lucius hadn't raised him to be such an arrogant swot, _he_ would have been Harry Potter's first friend.

He'd only heard Draco's account of their meeting on the train, but he now knew enough about Harry's childhood to understand where his godson had erred.

If he _had_ been successful, it would have created a connection between The Boy Who Lived and Draco – and Slytherin – that could have proved impervious to censure. Potter was a model Hufflepuff in his unfailing loyalty: witness his friendship with the Weasley boy. Clearly, no status or connections would be gained from the relationship, Ronald was not gifted with remarkable talents or skills of note, and a great deal of effort was required on Harry's part to overcome the redhead's temper and jealousy: in Slytherin, the alliance would have been very short lived.

In many ways it was a shame Draco _hadn't_ been able to befriend Potter; the two of them certainly had much more in common with each other than they did with any of their current associates; being of similar financial and social backgrounds and leaders in their houses, they were each gifted with higher than average intelligence and ability when they cared to make use of their talents. Even in Quidditch, about which all the boys were passionate, it was Draco who was the fellow Seeker.

A close friendship with the Malfoy heir would have benefited Potter as he trained to become the warrior and politician he needed to be – once the bonding was complete and able to sustain outside influences, Severus would have to remember to suggest Potter make use of Draco's experience in that – and if Potter was going to make his course choices based on those of his best friend, his apparent strategy until this year, Draco's options would have been of more use to a future Auror.

Slytherin, of course, would have benefited from the dispelling of the rumour that it was the 'Evil House.'

Snape suspected he'd discovered the reasoning behind the encouraging of the resentment between the boys and their Houses.

Inter-House friendships, while less common than inner-House ones, were not unheard of, particularly in forms other than that of the current seventh-years, and with the exception of certain instances, he did not recall the favouritism being as blatant in the years before Harry Potter and his year-mates arrived at the school. Other students, certainly, were not gifted with invisibility cloaks nor were the points for the House Cup altered at whim during the leaving feast.

In recent years, the only occasions wherein the infractions of the Slytherins were overlooked was on the Quidditch pitch, where Slytherins were perceived as being unsportsmanlike when they took advantage of the only opportunity they had available to them to make up significant points. Snape knew that he himself had gone beyond any reasonable expectations of favouritism that the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters would have had, yet Dumbledore had not spoken to him on the subject even once without McGonagall present and demanding it.

In each instance, Slytherin was set in opposition to Gryffindor, the House of Dark versus the House of Light.

Given Potter's surprisingly insightful comments in CATS: Dark Arts, how much of the rift was caused by Dumbledore's fear that, like Tom Riddle fifty years before, Harry would dabble or even succumb to the lure of Dark magics?

How many of the feuds between Houses were incited in similar ways, for similar reasons?

Snape decided the meal was sufficiently close to complete that he could glare meaningfully at his known miscreants and depart the hall. He needed to find a task to occupy his mind before he was forced to examine too closely the history of his relationship with Sirius Black.


	6. Thicker Than Blood

_This chapter begins with Harry remembering the 'Revenge By Dursley' scene at the end of Thicker Than Water. If you're more interested in plot than character, skip to the second scene._

_Once again the chapter took longer than I'd anticipated. I will blame on bridesmaid duties, work, a new kitten, and some brilliant insights from Tithenai, to which I hope I have done justice; I hope, too, that you will find it worthy of the delay. _

_All rights to the world of _Harry Potter_ belong to J.K. Rowling and a number of very large corporations, none of which is me, and I do not intend to make any money whatsoever from this endeavour._

_Particular thanks must be given to Tithenai and Phoenix Writing who have helped make_ Choosing Family _a better story in both style and content. _

_Additional notes are available before the prologue._

_Constructive criticism is always very much appreciated._

Originally posted 21 Nov. '06; edited version posted 29 Nov. '06

**Thicker than Blood**

Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, half-listening to his friends and pushing his lunch around his plate, too shocked and too drained to remember that he was supposed to be eating.

He'd been so nervous about today's occlumency lesson, knowing Snape would be furious that Harry had never corrected his professor's assumptions about his life with the Dursleys and had, in fact, played to them on occasion. His relationship with Snape had improved greatly since the fiasco that had been Harry's fifth year, but he was afraid that all the time and effort they'd put into building a working relationship that was both functional and mutually respectful would be lost – all because he was too embarrassed to admit how the Dursleys had really treated him.

The surprising thing was that he could understand Snape's anger when he began to suspect the truth. He himself had been betrayed in a similar fashion and knew how much that had hurt, but what he hadn't realized – not in Dumbledore's office after the battle at the Ministry nor in the years since then – was how easy it was to be the betrayer. Now though, he was beginning to understand Dumbledore's excuses for not telling him about the prophesy.

There was no time that seemed 'right' for his confession, either.

He knew that their eventual conversation would be difficult, and he finally decided that rather than initiating it, basically staging a confrontation, he would wait and deal with it when it came up. He just hadn't imagined a scene like the one in the Headmaster's office.

He hadn't expected Snape to let Harry tell the story rather than simply ransacking his memory or dosing him with veritaserum, either.

When Snape demanded he lower his mental protections, Harry was aware that if he agreed to do it, he would have to commit to telling everything. It was much easier to find related memories, which meant that if Harry told part of his life with the Dursleys and Snape had reason to suspect he'd held back, _nothing_ would remain hidden against the mental attack which would follow.

Keeping Voldemort out of his head was one thing; keeping Snape out was another entirely. Not only was Snape a more accomplished legilimens and occlumens than Voldemort – he'd had to be to maintain his position as spy – but after years of lessons, no one, possibly not even Harry himself, was as familiar with the workings of Harry's mind.

His professor would be able to see the summers he'd spent in Surrey, the nightmares, the hours locked in his room with nothing but the guilt he felt about Cedric, Sirius, and his parents... So much of his childhood could be exploited for sport.

The ridicule he'd suffered at the hands of his cousin and classmates for having ill-fitting clothes and broken glasses was unpleasant, and remembering it was certainly not painless, but it was hardly a unique circumstance. Books, television programmes, assemblies at school – they all assured him that there were other children all over the world who dealt with such things all the time.

Eventually, though, he'd realized that all those other 'ugly ducklings' were not sleeping in cupboards under the stairs while everyone else in the household had large bedrooms. That was when he'd realized exactly how much the Dursleys hated him.

He didn't think Snape would use what he learned to humiliate Harry publically – he was pretty sure they were past that – but in private...

A voice in his head (which, oddly, sounded remarkably like Ron's) was still insisting that trusting Snape was wrong, but in the end, he decided to do it anyway.

Harry didn't see how he could expect others to tell him the truth if he wouldn't do the same.

Besides, there was a small part of him that felt Snape deserved it for his horrible treatment of Harry. Once his professor knew the truth, he'd know how completely wrong he'd been.

So with a nod, he'd taken his shields down and began telling the story of Harry Potter: not The Boy Who Lived, but The Charity Case The Dursleys Were Saddled With.

* * *

Harry's distraction continued well into his afternoon class, but he didn't feel guilty for his lack of attention. The Confunding Cloud shield spell they were studying in DADA was one he had already learned in his training sessions, and from Malfoy's apparent boredom during the lecture and his confidence in casting at the end of class, Harry was certain it was also review for the Slytherin.

So when the thick, pearly cloud that should have appeared in the air in front of the Slytherin didn't – in fact, absolutely _nothing_ happened – Harry was shocked.

Malfoy wasn't – frustrated, though he masked that expression quickly, but definitely not shocked.

Harry knew Malfoy was having difficulties, but he hadn't expected it to be this drastic. Harry had time to watch Malfoy cast the spell a second time and saw a vague mist, like an early attempt at a patronus, before Professor Morgan noticed he wasn't casting yet. He tried not to feel guilty when his own shield appeared perfectly his first try.

* * *

After DADA, when Hermione left for Arithmancy, Harry told Ron he had to research an assignment for Dumbledore – he was getting very good at half-truths – and headed to the library. When Madam Pince saw his Restricted Section pass, she waved him to the correct area, with a warning about the age and fragility of many of the tomes.

Remembering his first foray into the Restricted Section, he wondered if she'd ever given that lecture to the books.

He made his way to the stacks, armed with Dumbledore's list and his own notes. As much as Harry wanted to ignore the _Fidelitās Dominō_ bond entirely and enjoy the possibilities of family offered by the adoption ritual, he was aware that if he was going to give Dumbledore a response by Thursday, he needed to have a better understanding of what the bonding entailed.

Most of what he found in the Restricted Section was the same sort of information he had discovered in the common stacks – romanticized tellings of the legend of the crafting of the spell, vague references to the casting which were usually of the 'be careful or else' variety, and not a great deal that was of practical use.

Before too long, however, he discovered why Dumbledore and Snape had approached him about the possibility of bonding rather than having Malfoy do it himself – aside from the fact that he wouldn't have listened if Malfoy had tried – and why Malfoy hadn't spoken to him about it since then.

Part of the reason for the duration of the bonding ritual, which was intended as a public declaration of unity between two groups, was to ensure that everyone would be aware of it. After the _Prīncipium_, when the _vectigal_ was tested for sincerity and willingness to bond, the potential _domini_ were evaluated as well, and anyone who was unwilling to bond would be able to subtly make that clear. A lack of suitable candidates for _dominus_ or a direct refusal from one of them would weaken the _vectigal_, and when he _was_ able to complete the bond he would be more dependent on his _dominus_ and more slavishly obedient to him.

Given the traditionally volatile relationship between Malfoy and the only other speaker of Parseltongue he was likely to meet, Voldemort was clearly taking advantage of his need for secrecy.

A number of the texts Harry read claimed that various elements of the ritual, the strength and timing of each phase of the casting, the intentions and emotions of the participants, astrological signs, etc., were factors in the eventual strength of the bond and the power of the _dominus_ within it, and he reached for the books on his lists which were likely to expand on that.

Several hours, many long arithmancy-filled theories, and one very large headache later, he wished Hermione had been more forceful when they'd selected their electives in third year because, as far as he could tell, none of the proposed theories were conclusive, and some were contradictory.

Most frustratingly, none of the books could tell him how or even _if_ determining the type of bond that would manifest was something he could consciously control or influence. The fantasies he'd had over the better part of six years detailing exactly what he'd like to do to Draco Malfoy had seemed an innocent enough outlet for his frustration at the time – he'd never intended to _act_ on them, after all – but they now terrified him.

One of the few things on which the Restricted Section texts did agree was that whatever chance he and Malfoy had to exist independently after the bonding was unpredictable, which wasn't terribly comforting, really.

Neither was the recommendation in many of the texts that the first part of the bonding be spent in isolation.

Because the two groups using _Fidelitās Dominō_ would most often be from traditionally opposing factions or different cultures, the _dominus_ was given the responsibility of teaching his _vectigal_ the appropriate behaviour and necessary skills for his new position – language, family customs, training in specific duties, and other things of that sort. The time between the Joining and the Acceptance would sometimes be called the "Training Period" for exactly that reason.

The best way for the _dominus_ and _vectigal_ to learn how to behave within their new confines would be to spend the time together, free from outside influences and tension. For a minimum of one week, longer if the duties of those involved permitted, the only people they should have contact with – and only if necessary – were those directly involved in the bonding. It was intended to foster trust and amicability between the pair since in most cases they would not know each other well but would have many prejudices to overcome.

Amongst other things, isolating the bonded couple from the outside world would help prevent the _dominus_ from conditioning unintentional behaviour and would limit the chances of unnecessary and unexpected spells influencing the bond, a circumstance that could have hazardous consequences. There were a number of emotion-based spells and potions that were listed as being particularly dangerous, notably ensnarement potions, a list of suspicion hexes Harry had never heard of, and cheering charms.

The worst case of that sort of violation ever documented occurred in an area with several feuding groups. The two smallest united, using the bond to solidify their allegiance, and a member of the third group, threatened by the alliance, had been creative about destroying it. With access to the bonded couple, he cast the Imperious Curse on the _dominus_ and forced him to train the _vectigal_ to stop breathing on command. The interference was discovered, but not until after the _vectigal_ suffocated because he could not inhale without permission.

After reading that Harry could understand the need for the period of isolation. _But it still means_, and Harry checked his notes and his calendar to be sure, _Voldemort has managed to ruin three consecutive Christmases, four if I blame him for the Yule Ball_.

* * *

Harry had never been so grateful for a Quidditch practice in his life, though the rest of the Gryffindor team could not agree. With two months and a long holiday break before their match against Hufflepuff, the others might have wondered at Harry's dedication and enthusiasm, but he worked them too hard for idle speculation or unnecessary conversation.

When he finally let his exhausted teammates return to the castle, he stayed on the pitch a while longer, flying in absent circles, wishing there was sufficient light to practice dives that were challenging enough to stop him from thinking.

* * *

_The room was loud and busy, crowded and colourful. At first glance, it was a typical social event: people were talking, drinking, laughing. Under the surface, however, tension coiled throughout the room, subtle, but impossible to ignore. Deliberately casual shoulder checks and careful phrasing revealed a wariness of eavesdroppers, and glasses frequently met lips without dispensing liquid. Control was everything, and the consequences of losing that control__– of tongue, of temper, of situation, of power – were dire if not fatal._

_On the dais above the crowd, removed from the bustle, the source of the tension smiled, and the fear in the room increased perceptibly._

_Harry sat on an ornate chair, able to observe his guests and making no attempt to hide that he was doing so. Even in the face of all the various entertainments, however, the majority of his attention was focussed on the boy next to him. A bright red ribbon was tied around the pale neck in a jaunty bow, and Harry held the end of it in his hand with deceptive carelessness. He rubbed the silky material idly against his fingers, absently pleased with the texture._

_A light tug on the leash and his pet was sitting on his hind quarters with his hands in the air. As a reward, Harry tossed him a lemon drop, which the blond caught in his teeth. Harry gave him a light look of approval for the trick, which the blond acknowledged with a shy smile and a slight blush before quickly ducking his head. He then settled himself on the floor next to Harry, resting his head comfortably on his master's knee. _

_Harry reached out and combed his fingers through the silky hair, softer than the ribbon by far. He closed his eyes, shutting out the inconsequential masses, and savoured the intense satisfaction and fierce pleasure that this beautiful creature was his._

He opened his eyes to find the common room deserted and the fire out.

Horrified and exhausted, Harry made his way up the stairs to his dorm, grabbed a vial of Dreamless Sleep, and crawled back into bed.

* * *

Taking the Dreamless Sleep so late at night meant he slept well past breakfast, not waking until Seamus returned from Divination. Fortunately, he hadn't had a class scheduled first period, but Harry raced to the dungeons in a frantic and hopeless attempt to make it to his second period class on time.

He couldn't hear the cacophony of students preparing their ingredients when he approached the classroom, and, nurturing the hope that Snape was also late, he carefully opened the door.

_Of course not.__ I don't have that kind of luck._

Not only was Snape present, he was facing the door, leaning against his desk with his arms crossed, and he paused in his explanation of the day's assignment to comment on Harry's entrance.

"Since you have found time in your schedule to join us, Mr. Potter, I assume that you are aware this is a class. You will have noticed as well that the partner assignments have changed. I trust you can find your seat with greater alacrity and respect for those of us here than you did the classroom."

Harry saw Dean Thomas – the only Gryffindor in the class aside from Hermione and himself – in the front sitting next to Millicent Bulstrode, neither a position nor a pairing that was likely to have been the first choice of either of them. A quick check of the rest of the room confirmed that unless the instructions had been "sit next to the student you like the least," Snape had assigned the partners.

Harry found his place, predictably next to Draco Malfoy, who was too busy taking notes – or pretending to, at least – to acknowledge him. Harry tried to follow the lecture while he pulled his own parchment and quill out of his bag as quickly and quietly as possible.

Pairings from hell aside, the assignment actually sounded as though it could be interesting. Each half of the assigned pair would brew the _Animāre_ Potion, which would enable items coated with it to be animated. Complicated and time consuming, it was largely out of favour in contemporary Wizarding society, since there was a charm which would do the same thing with much less effort. The potions of two brewers, however, could be combined, forming the base for _Animaloqui_, a potion which would enable two items coated in it to be linked in such a way that they could be used to communicate.

Though Snape specifically mentioned its use in portraiture, Harry realized that it was probably what Sirius and his dad had used to make the mirrors they'd used in detention.

Like many of the potions the seventh-years were studying, this one was more complicated than adding a bunch of ingredients to a cauldron and letting them simmer. In NEWT level Potions, they had been amused to discover, both 'wand-waving and silly incantations' were often needed before, during, and after the brewing. In this instance, there would be both – and a great deal of preparation and research besides – and most of it would have to be done with their partners.

Because _Animaloqui_ would rely on the magical signatures of the brewers, the ingredients used in _Animāre_ would not be the same for each student in the class, and because they would be combining their potions with their partner's, the partner's signature would need to be considered as well, to ensure compatibility.

There was also a charm that would show a magical signature, though they hadn't learned it yet.

Snape informed them with a malicious sort of satisfaction that it was on the syllabus for NEWT Charms, and they would be repeating the assignment once they had learned it, with the same partners, for comparison.

In the meantime, they would have to use other methods.

Because the students had not taken identical electives, they would need to use an assortment of things they had learned in Potions and in other classes – primarily Divination, Arithmancy, and Charms – to calculate their own ingredients, and they would need to get information from their partners to ensure compatibility.

The class worked silently for the rest of the period, listing charms and arithmantic equations, figuring out astrological signs and signifiers, and anything else that could be of use.

_The man is diabolical, really_, Harry thought while he worked. The assignment and the designated pairs would be the perfect cover for the time Harry and Malfoy would have to spend together preparing for and adapting to the bonding, as well as the information they would inevitably learn in the process. Harry wasn't sure how long they would be able to keep the bonding or the adoptions a secret, or even if they would want to, but he assumed they would, at least for a while.

Given the benefits if Harry agreed, it was a great cover, but because there was only a limited amount time before the holiday break, they couldn't postpone it a week simply because Harry hadn't yet decided. Besides, if Harry were to say no, Snape would probably also think the misery of working so closely with the other boy was deserved.

At the end of the class Harry packed his things quickly, eager to leave, but he was stopped by the quiet voice of the boy next to him.

"My birthday's on the thirteenth of this month. What else do you need to know?"

When Harry looked over to reply, everything and everyone faded out of his vision, and he couldn't see anything but Malfoy with a ribbon around his neck that was nearly glowing in the dim lighting of the Potions classroom. He blinked in shock, shook his head to clear it, and the world righted itself. The other boy's look of carefully distant inquiry wavered slightly, then hardened into the familiar Malfoy mask when Harry picked up his things and left without a word in response.

* * *

As he headed toward the stairs, a strong and determined hand grabbed his arm from behind, forcing him out of the throng of students and into a nearby empty classroom. The door shut with an ominous click, and his best friend rounded on him.

"Harry James Potter! What the hell was that?"

Harry stared at her blankly, too caught in his nightmare to identify Hermione's problem.

"All of the arguments we've had with Ron this year about maturity and respect and House Unity! You _agreed_ with me! How can you berate Ron for _his_ behaviour toward Slytherins in general, Malfoy in particular, and then act like _that?_!"

Harry winced, only partially because of her shrill tone. When they received their Hogwarts letters and discovered that Draco Malfoy had been named Head Boy, Hermione and Harry had begun to campaign for a cease-fire between the two most volatile Houses at Hogwarts.

Voldemort lost a powerful ally when Lucius Malfoy had been arrested, and the Death Eater attacks were not nearly as well organized or effective. The Order had been nearly as stymied as they had been grateful for Voldemort's refusal to even attempt to free him from Azkaban until last spring. An additional and equally unexpected benefit had been that with his father in jail and the Death Eaters having less success and influence under the new minister, Draco had been less vocal and less antagonistic than in previous years. It was part of why he'd been chosen as Head Boy and how Harry and Hermione had managed to convince Ron and many of the other Gryffindors to stop baiting Slytherins and, more importantly, to restrain themselves when baited. It was intended as an appeal to neutral Slytherins, and it had been at least somewhat successful – at least until Harry publicly snubbed their leader.

"You were – That was just – mean! He was trying to be nice!"

_Oh, Bloody Hell._

His brain finally caught up, and he realized how much worse the situation was than Hermione knew. Draco Malfoy, a _vectigal_, had just made a friendly overture to his chosen _dominus_ which had been deliberately and publically ignored. Harry's mind scrambled, trying to calculate the repercussions of his carelessness while Hermione continued her rant, "It's _reciprocal_ magic, Harry! The brewers need to work _together _for the potion to work. You can't just take my notes and make do this time. You need to talk to him – and an apology wouldn't hurt!

When Harry didn't respond, she threw her hands in the air. "_He_'s growing up! How long will it take you?" With that, she stormed off to the door.

Once there, she stopped abruptly and, without turning to face him, traced the wood grain on the door.

"And Harry?" Her voice was very quiet, but it resonated in the silence that had fallen once she stopped shouting. "Whatever it is that's bothering you lately?" He made a non-committal noise, which she seemed to interpret as an invitation to continue. "You know that you can talk to me, right?"

With his eyes closed, he didn't know if she turned and saw his small nod, but she didn't say another word. When he opened his eyes, she was gone.

* * *

Transfiguration was not a great success, even with the use of the notes Hermione had lent him, and when Harry returned them to her, she thanked him in a chilly tone that made it clear he had not yet been forgiven. Fortunately, Ron was able to act as a buffer during the double period class. He'd noticed the tension, of course, but for once he didn't press when both Hermione and Harry refused to explain.

Dinner, on the other hand, was made easier by the absence of Draco, at least until Harry learned why he was missing: he'd been sent to the hospital wing after collapsing rather dramatically in the middle of class. Parvati and Lavender were able to contribute that, according to the gossip mill, he hadn't been well in Charms earlier that afternoon, either.

Harry grew silent, feeling guiltier with every word spoken. It was horrible, knowing that all the physical pain, the inconstant magic, the emotional uncertainty, it all stemmed from Draco's hope that Harry could help save him and his fear that Harry would refuse to do it.

Snape was avoiding looking at the Gryffindor table, and Harry wondered how much of that was because the Head of Slytherin didn't want his glares to negatively influence Harry's decision.

He knew he was Draco's best option, and it was terrifying. His inability to make a decision about the bonding, his thoughtless remarks earlier – it had only been four days, and he'd already landed the other boy in the hospital wing. They'd be tied together for life, which in Harry's case that was not guaranteed to be very long; what kind of _dominus_ would he be?

Speculation of a different sort continued throughout the meal as the Gryffindors suggested increasingly preposterous reasons for Malfoy's illness. Harry had just decided that he was finished – both eating _and _listening to the theories about Malfoy – when Professor McGonagall stopped by their table on her way out of the Great Hall and asked him to follow her.

He stood, pretending not to notice the curious looks of his friends, but his enthusiasm for leaving the table dampened considerably just outside the entrance.

Draco Malfoy stopped short a few steps from the bottom of the staircase and reached for the railing in a movement that was too controlled to call 'clutching', but only just.

"Are you alright, Malfoy?" McGonagall asked in a tone that was brisk but not unkind.

"Yes, thank you," he replied politely. He must have seen suspicion in her gaze because he added, "Madam Pomfrey said I'll be fine once I've eaten and sent me to join the others."

She nodded and waved Harry forward. "Come along, Potter."

Harry knew he couldn't leave Malfoy to wonder all night, not after the afternoon he'd suffered, but he wasn't ready to commit to anything yet, either. The most he could do was make sure Malfoy knew where things stood. Assuming Malfoy knew about Harry's familial situation and options – he was sure Snape would have told him if he hadn't known already – the Gryffindor gave Malfoy a pointed look and started up the stairs.

"Do you know if Remus has arrived yet?" he asked at a volume he knew would carry to the other boy, hoping that would be enough.

* * *

Harry grimaced when he felt the hated tug on his navel and stumbled into the kitchen at Grimmauld Place.

The Headmaster had received word that unexpected visitors from the Ministry were on their way to Hogwarts and decided that, in order to ensure sufficient privacy and security for as long as necessary, Harry would join Remus at Grimmauld Place.

He put the chipped tea cup Dumbledore had given him as a portkey on the kitchen table and headed upstairs.

In the two and a half years since he'd first seen the house, it had undergone an astounding transformation. First and foremost, Kreacher was gone, relegated to the kitchens at Hogwarts with specific instructions to neither harm anyone nor speak unless Harry or Dumbledore were present, and Dobby had been thrilled to watch him.

The house still wasn't perfect, but extensive cleaning and redecorating made it look like a home, if not _his_ home. Not that he'd ever had a proper one, but he knew what he wanted, and there were too many accommodations for the Order for it to feel entirely right. Mrs. Black was still there as well, but the curtain covering her had been given the twins' best permanent sticking charm. It wasn't quite the strength of the one used to hold the portrait to the wall, and Molly could break it if she really wanted, but she decidedly didn't.

* * *

He found Remus exactly where he'd expected: upstairs in the library.

Remus was the only one in residence at the moment, but others could drop by, so once the pleasantries were out of the way, privacy wards were set, and they settled comfortably on the couch. Remus looked at him expectantly, and Harry mentally sorted through the events of the last few days, the parts he wanted to tell, the parts he didn't. "I don't know where to start," he admitted finally.

"The beginning is usually a good place."

Harry tried to smile at Remus's teasing tone but shrugged, uncertain where exactly that was. Remus seemed to understand and said, "Jump in the middle, then, and we'll muddle through the best we can."

"It's about the Ministry's mentoring spell."

Next to him on the couch, Remus stilled for a moment before asking, "You're interested in an Apprenticeship?"

Harry shook his head, then shrugged again. "I just found out about the adoption part of the spell; it came up in a discussion about something else." There was a small frayed spot on the arm of the sofa, and, not wanting to see Remus's expression, Harry picked at it. "I just wondered... if... you know..."

One of Remus's best qualities was that he didn't just watch while you floundered.

"Have I ever considered the possibility of adopting you?" Harry didn't even have time to nod before Remus answered, "Yes. Immediately after Sirius died, of course, and many times both before and since."

"Then why didn't...?"

"The Wizarding world won't let werewolves teach their children; it certainly doesn't want us to raise them." Harry heard the bitterness that Remus was usually careful to keep hidden. "Any attempt to do so by concealing the condition is punishable by a long stay in Azkaban. Knowing what I know now about your life with the Dursleys..." He paused and eventually shook his head.

"Even without the blood protections from your mother, the Dursleys did seem the best option available at the time. Few Wizarding households would have been able to protect you from the madness of being 'The Boy Who Lived.'" Harry made a face, uncertain which disgusted him more, the Dursleys or the stupid title.

"I wish Dumbledore had chosen another path," Remus continued. "At the time though... I wanted to take you, of course, but there was no way I could have done so without revealing my lycanthropy. The chances of a single man being granted custody of any child were slim enough, a werewolf doing so was unheard of, but if the child was Harry Potter? It would have been impossible. Especially with so many fine, upstanding, Wizarding families ready to take you in. Knowing the emphasis the Old Families place on blood, it won't surprise you that blood relationships are always preserved when possible, and in your case, it was the only thing preventing a lengthy court assessment. The petitions for custody were overwhelming; without a living relative, it would have been necessary to entertain them. Even the Malfoys intended to offer for you."

Harry started.

"Indeed." Remus assumed an affected air. "The Potters took in Narcissa's cousin, you know, and it was only fair that they return the favour. You'd have a playmate in young Draco, and Lucius could train you to manage your inheritance." He returned to his normal voice. "Lucius was a prominent Ministry official, cleared of any culpability for his actions in support of Voldemort, and likely to be supportive of keeping you in the public eye; they would have pushed that through the Wizengamot before you could say 'Quidditch'. It was the end of a long, difficult war, and the Wizengamot was trying to piece Wizarding society together again. They would have supported the old pureblood family.

"Last year, after Sirius, the only thing you were enthusiastic about was leaving the Dursleys and being an adult. I assumed that you weren't interested. Your best friends are children of some of the oldest pure-blood families and the best-read witch at Hogwarts; it never occurred to me that you wouldn't know it was possible."

"Snape said something like that, that I was lacking in knowledge of Wizarding Culture." Harry said quietly.

"It's understandable, given your history," Remus reassured him. "We all tend to forget, I think, that you returned to a repressively Muggle household each summer. Severus, particularly, would find it difficult to comprehend, given his own background. He..." Remus paused, searching for the right words or deciding how much to say.

Snape never spoke about his past, and Remus was rarely willing to gossip on any subject, so Harry was tempted to see how much he could learn, but, Gryffindor or not, he didn't think he'd have the courage to broach the topic again. Before Remus could continue, he interrupted, "Would you still want to? I mean, I know I'm legally an adult, but I'm only seventeen, so I can choose to revert my status, so if you were willing – "

Harry felt Remus move closer to him on the couch, but he didn't look up until fingers under his chin stopped the babble and lifted his face. The older man didn't speak until Harry met his gaze, and once he did, Harry didn't need to hear Remus's response.

"Of course I want to and am willing – more than anything, Harry."

Too happy to worry about what would happen when he confessed about the _Fidelitās Dominō_ ritual, Harry grinned, trying very hard to keep from launching himself into Remus's arms.

His new father-to-be must have sensed his dilemma or maybe he was suffering from the same bubbling joy because he reached out and pulled Harry into a hug. That in itself felt strange but in a nice way: Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, and occasionally Ginny were the only ones who hugged him, really, and hugging Remus was very different.

* * *

They talked for a little while longer, but Harry found it hard to focus with the whirlwind of emotion inside him – joy, obviously, guilt that he hadn't yet explained about _Fidelitās Dominō_, fear that once he did everything would fall apart, fear of what he would have to do if it didn't.

He knew he would have to explain, and soon, but he really didn't want to tarnish the moment.

Before too long, though, his sleepless nights caught up with him, and after his third yawn, Remus suggested that it was time for bed. Harry stiffened involuntarily, and Remus noticed.

"Is there something else, Harry?" He gave Harry a searching look. "Are you certain this is what you want?"

"It really is," Harry said earnestly, but Remus's expression was still concerned. "It came up— I found out about it because of something else, and I'll tell you about it, but if I'd found out about it, you know, randomly, and it was possible, I'd have asked you anyway. I think you'd be a really great dad."

He drew a deep breath and opened his mouth to tell Remus everything, but before any sound came out, he closed it again. When he did finally speak what came out was, "Can tonight be just about this? I'll explain everything else tomorrow, I promise. I don't have classes in the morning, and the headmaster said I could stay until lunch. Please?"

Remus still looked worried, but he eventually nodded. "Of course."

* * *

Snape missed dinner on Thursday, being forced to supervise the cleanup of a rather spectacular potions accident. The concoction that covered the walls of his classroom was dangerously reactive, highly toxic, and very, very foul-smelling. Given the volatile nature of the ingredients, Snape was required to be present to ensure that no magic was used: cleaning spells in combination with that mess would have disastrous consequences. In the few moments he had after the cleaning was finished, he detoured past the kitchens before arriving at the parlour-style room in which they were holding CATS: Theory of the Dark Arts.

Draco was the first of the students to enter, scanning the room quickly. Seeing only his godfather, his shoulders dropped dejectedly before he remembered himself and straightened. He turned to Severus, who shook his head before the boy had time to hope.

"He wasn't at dinner?"

"No." His godson's reply was petulant, and reminiscent of the child he had been; under other circumstances it would have been amusing. "The Headmaster was there, but if he was trying to communicate anything I didn't understand. He had the same expression he always has, and I don't speak twinkle."

The door opened then, and though they both took care to hide it, they were disappointed that the student entering was not Potter, as it meant any further discussion would have to wait until after class.

The Gryffindor in question did eventually arrive, but there was no indication what his decision was or even if he had made one.

Malfoy and Potter sat in their usual places, as far apart as they could be without being directly opposite and having to face each other for the duration of the class. There wasn't much chance to hide in CATS:DA since the class consisted of only Snape and four students.

Harry Potter had taken the course much to the consternation of Molly Weasley, who gave both Harry and Snape several lectures on the matter when she saw the text list. Severus, too, had been surprised; he hadn't expected the Golden Boy to be willing to challenge the prejudices of his House and the Wizarding World, even if he would be likely to need the knowledge to defeat Voldemort. Harry's application to the course had even expressed a desire to know the enemy and, given his own Dark talent, more about himself.

Descended from two respected Pureblood lines, Morag McDougall, Ravenclaw, was the enigma. Her father was not too distantly related to Minerva McGonagall, while her mother's family had been welcomed at Grimmauld Place by Walburga Black. The girl's own loyalties were uncertain – one of the reasons she'd been accepted. Her application to the course and her participation in it were typical of her House, but was her need to impress merely a thirst for knowledge or was she hoping to eventually join the Death Eaters? After three months, Snape was still undecided.

Theodore Nott had been offered a place in the course for reasons that were similar to his Ravenclaw counterpart. In addition to placing among the highest of his year academically, Theodore had the sense to stay out of the politics of Slytherin House as much as possible. He wasn't part of any particular group nor did he have any particular enemies. Neither the arrest of Nott Senior – an older Death Eater, valued more for his dedication than competence, captured at the Ministry a year and a half ago – nor his liberation this spring had any noticeable effect on the boy, his status amongst his classmates, or whatever allegiances he might have. His particular interests seemed to lean toward areas of jurisprudence, suggesting to Snape that he intended to weather the war from a position in the Ministry.

It would doubtless surprise many, however, that Draco Malfoy had _not_ chosen to take the course in preparation for a career as a Death Eater, that he was not, in fact, even taking the course voluntarily. He had applied as part of the compromise he had negotiated with his mother when it was time to choose his seventh year schedule. He'd had no real reason to refuse her demand, since it would be an easy grade – not because it was being taught by his godfather, but because he had prior, practical experience in the subject; and he had every reason to acquiesce since agreeing to take it in addition to his Potions apprenticeship had given him necessary leverage.

Severus had been pleased, since it provided him with an opportunity to point out how illogical, petty, and narrow-minded many of the Dark Lord's tenets were, as well as the infeasibility of his schemes to implement them.

As Draco's godfather and Head of House, Severus had tried to influence him, to provide an alternative to his father's blind arrogance and delusions of supremacy. Draco was volatile and hard-headed, but he had a good brain when he chose to use it; unfortunately, given Snape's current public stance as the Headmaster's pet Death Eater, there had been limits – and there still were to a certain extent – to how much he could say, even without considering the Dark Lord or, in earlier years, the threat of his return. Lucius had painted Dumbledore as the enemy, more so than the Boy Who Lived, at least through Draco's childhood, since Lucius had intended the boys to be friends once they began at Hogwarts. It was a delicate balance, trying to encourage the boy to see other perspectives without pushing him too far.

It had been even more so this term: despite showing increased maturity and restraint since the departure of that Umbridge woman and his deft handling of his duties as Head Boy in spite of the resentment of a number of his classmates, there was still some cause for concern. Draco had taken to spending long periods of time alone, usually in the library or his room, occasionally in the potions lab. It was not typical behaviour – his unlikely friendship with Crabbe and Goyle had been largely based on his need for an audience. Not knowing the reason for the change, it was especially worrisome.

Clearly, at least some progress had been made, regardless. Draco had been willing to discuss his doubts about his expected future, however obliquely, and he had come to Severus with his suspicions about the bonding.

Regardless of whether he did so believing Bella's insinuations that Snape was still Dumbledore's spy or if he was terrified that they were false, it was a courageous and doubtless difficult choice to make, and Severus was both proud and thankful that he had, though it would make the betrayal even greater when the boy discovered that Snape was the highest-ranked spy the Order had amongst the Death Eaters.

He had toyed with the idea of telling Draco before this, and probably should have, but if anything were to go wrong, Snape would have a chance – small, but a chance nonetheless – to excuse his actions, but not if the Dark Lord possessed the irrefutable proof of a confession. At this point, the risk was hardly worth it, as Draco would have to be told next week regardless, assuming they would be performing the bonding ritual.

The Slytherin in him was appalled, but Severus was actually lamenting the disappearance of the charge-ahead Gryffindor hero.

Draco coughed slightly, and Snape realized with a start that it was well-passed time for class to begin. He pushed his personal thoughts aside to lay the foundation for a discussion on necromancy.

* * *

He asked Harry to remain after class.

Unable to sit still while the students gathered their things and unwilling to give into the temptation to pace, he walked slowly to the window and stared towards the Quidditch pitch, though it was too dark to see anything.

"Is Malfoy ok?"

Considering how callously out of character the Gryffindor had been behaving, his seemingly sincere concern now was grating, but Snape held his temper and replied, "He is coherent and mobile, which rates an 'Acceptable' on our current standard."

He watched via the reflection in the window as Potter took a deep breath and held it a moment before releasing it and looking at the floor.

When he repeated the pattern twice more, Severus decided he couldn't wait for the boy to remember how to say 'no.'

Twenty years ago, he had promised himself that he would never again beg for anything from anyone. For twenty years, he had kept his word, even in the face of Dumbledore's righteous pity or the Dark Lord's most creative torture, even as he broke every other vow he had ever made.

But now, here, he would be forsworn in this, too.

Rather than watch the reflection of his latest failure, he closed his eyes briefly before he spoke.

"Please, Harry." The boy's head snapped up, and Snape was relieved to discover that, unlike pride, grim amusement was an emotion that was not lost to him. "I know–"

"I'll do it," Potter interrupted breathlessly. "Remus said yes, and I chose Eustacia Sigismund in Charms this afternoon. I'm sorry. I told the Headmaster after lunch, but I guess he didn't have a chance to tell you. I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Clearly, he would have to have words with Albus and not all of Potter's rambling made sense, but at this precise moment, Snape was too relieved to speak or to care.

"We'll discuss the details tomorrow afternoon," Severus managed when the boy's babbling drifted to an end. Thankfully recognizing the comment for the dismissal it was, Harry nodded, picked up his bag, and left the room.

* * *

On his way out, Harry noticed Malfoy standing in the hall, not even pretending that he was doing anything but waiting for them to finish.

"Malfoy," he said neutrally. He continued down the hall and up the stairs without looking back to see the blond close his eyes as he collapsed against the wall or the Potions master watch them both with a concerned scowl.

* * *

_I have received word that you are unwell. _

_This concerns me grievously after so much _

_has been done to ensure your health and _

_future. If the strain of separation from _

_those who are most concerned with your _

_welfare is too great, inform me at once, _

_and I will arrange for you to return _

_immediately. _

_M_


	7. Changing Perspectives

_With apologies to everyone who was told it wouldn't be very long, here's the next installment. __It took much longer than I thought it would -- I finished writing on Easter weekend (after deciding to drastically truncate the chapter), and it's been in revision ever since._

_All rights to the world of _Harry Potter_ belong to J.K. Rowling and a number of very large corporations, none of which is me, and I do not intend to make any money whatsoever from this endeavour._

_Particular thanks must be given to Tithenai and Phoenix Writing who have helped make_ Choosing Family _a better story in both style and content. _

_I'm taking some small liberties with the organization of the Ministry of Magic in this chapter, particularly with respect to Arthur Weasley's position there. To wit – the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, while located in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and nominally affiliated with them, is a subdivision of the Department of Muggle Relations._

_Additional notes are available before the prologue._

_Constructive criticism is always very much appreciated._

Originally posted 18 May '07

* * *

**Changing Perspectives**

_All things considered_, Remus mused,_ it was an appropriate beginning, if not an auspicious one_.

In the forty or so hours since he'd agreed to adopt Harry Potter, he had been asked to research and participate in an obscure and archaic ritual, had made plans to accommodate the new and likely resentful additions to the household, and had been called to the bedside of his unconscious ward.

It was something he'd have to tease James about in the – hopefully distant – future.

He watched the boy lying so still in the bed, so different from the last time they'd seen each other, when Harry had been nearly vibrating with tension. When Remus had arrived at Hogwarts early that morning, he'd met with the Headmaster, intending to discuss the specific details of the _Fidelitās Dominō_ ritual, but before they had more than exchanged pleasantries, Ron Weasley had arrived with the news that Harry had been taken to the infirmary after an accident in DADA.

Their class had been divided into teams for a scrimmage, and in the melee, Harry had been targeted by a number of spells simultaneously, knocking him off balance and into Draco Malfoy's remarkably strong Confunding Cloud shield. Unfortunately, given the combination of spells involved, any attempts, magical or otherwise, to revive him before the spells ran their course would risk dangerous psychological injury – specifically memory loss, confusion, or dementia.

Poppy had insisted Harry would be fine, but they wouldn't know the severity of Harry's situation for certain until he woke, so Remus sat in the hospital wing, waiting. He had a number of texts on hand that he should be reviewing before they met to make decisions about the ritual, but he was finding it difficult to concentrate on anything but the young man beside him.

The resemblance between James and his son was remarkable, but never so much as when Harry's eyes were closed. Even then, of course, differences remained. The physical ones, like Lily's nose, were subtle and easy to overlook, but the habitual ones were obvious: Harry never quite managed a look of childish innocence; even when sleeping he was restless, ill at ease – the exact opposite of the Potter boy Remus had roomed with for seven years.

Knowing that Harry had not been able to find that peace, that he very likely hadn't since Godric's Hollow, filled Moony with unfamiliarly strong rage and a barely controlled desire for vengeance – against Voldemort, obviously, but also toward those who should have cared for him when James and Lily couldn't.

Since Sirius's death, Harry had confessed a great deal about the circumstances in which he'd grown up, and while Remus was certain that he'd left out the worst of it, it had been clear that the boy hadn't had much of a childhood or rearing, at least not in their intended definitions. Harry's Muggle relatives were appalling examples of humanity, and Moony would dearly love the opportunity to repay them for their gross negligence and active emotional abuse. Remus was trying very hard to suppress the urge.

Dumbledore, too, was partially responsible, and that was a difficult admission, since he himself owed the older wizard so much. Because of Dumbledore, he had been given the opportunity to study here, at _Hogwarts_; he'd been given the chance to teach, however briefly; he'd been welcomed as a member of the Order. But the gratitude and obligation he owed the older man was tainted now with resentment that he and others, people Remus had_ trusted,_ hadn't been as observant or as vigilant as they should have been, and the son of his alpha, the youngest member of his chosen pack had been harmed as a result.

Mostly, though, he blamed himself. He should have been able to prevent it.

He was at fault in so many ways – he hadn't done more, had _accepted_ that he couldn't do more, had allowed Dumbledore to send him away without ascertaining Harry's well-being for himself. Regardless of risk or politics, he should have managed _at least_ that much. He'd failed his friends, his _pack_ – James and Lily, obviously, but the others as well. Harry should have had an alternative to the Dursleys that was both legal and viable. With Sirius in Azkaban and Peter believed to be dead, it was his responsibility as the last Marauder.

Because of Harry, Remus found himself resenting his condition with an intensity that was rare for him. He'd had years to accept the wolf that was part of him as well as the restrictions that were placed on him because of it, and he generally found it easier to work within those limitations than to fight that which he alone could not change.

It was another matter entirely when the injured party was a packmate.

Remus had been horrified to learn that Voldemort planned to use _Fidelitās Dominō_. He knew of the ritual, of course – given his love of reading, libraries were havens, and he'd taken full advantage of their resources.

Fortunately, Harry, despite being slight, was certainly not weak, physically or emotionally. In addition to Quidditch and the DA, Harry had added training and duelling to his schedule this year, and all of it contributed to a strength which was belied by his stature. As for emotional strength, one would be hard pressed to find another child – or adult for that matter – who could survive what Harry had and still maintain such a generous and honourable nature. When Harry had explained with only the slightest catch in his voice that the unifier Voldemort had used was Parseltongue, Remus's admiration for the boy had grown immeasurably, while his fear had – impossibly – doubled.

As frightening as Harry's life had seemed to an honorary uncle, it was terrifying from the perspective of a father, and surprisingly, _shockingly_, after nearly thirty-seven years, that's what he would be. A father, with a family of his own – it was one of his dearest dreams, the one he had long ago accepted would never come true, and now, in only a few days, he'd have the chance. It was terrifying.

He wondered briefly if James had felt less fear, even in the days before he knew his family was a direct target, but he doubted it.

* * *

_After they walked up the stairs in a nearly companionable silence, Harry stopped Remus in the hall outside his room and asked, hesitantly, "Would my parents mind, do you think?"_

Oh, you dear boy_, Remus thought before searching for an answer that would address the boy's concern without sounding completely self-serving._

_His eventual response was no less true for being clichéd. "More than anything, Harry, your parents and Sirius wanted you to be safe and happy."_

* * *

He brushed Harry's hair back from his forehead, revealing the other obvious physical difference between Harry and James.

_So much responsibility at such a young age._

Fortunately, experience had given Remus confidence in the strength and courage of the young man in front of him, confidence that James wouldn't have had in the tiny infant Harry had once been –_ even if that infant would defeat the wizarding world's greatest threat at the age of fifteen months_, he thought wryly. He left his hand resting on Harry's, feeling better for the contact, hoping Harry did as well.

"He'll be fine, you know."

Remus looked up to see Poppy Pomfrey standing by the door.

"I know," Remus said with a self-effacing smile, "but I can't seem to help myself."

She performed a quick set of diagnostic spells, some of which he knew from his own regular visits to the hospital wing after each transformation at Hogwarts, all of which he recognized from the scans she had performed not an hour earlier. Like the spells, her diagnosis did not change. "His readings have all returned to normal, and he's sleeping naturally. He should wake within the hour. He'll be groggy and a bit confused, at first, but that's to be expected. Other than that, a nutritious lunch, a dose of Severus's restorative draught, and he'll be right as rain."

"Thank you, Poppy."

She smiled indulgently, clearly recognizing that, regardless of how many times she uttered them, her words wouldn't dispel his worry entirely, and she turned back to her office. "I'll order enough lunch for you as well, shall I, since you'll be staying."

Recognizing that her remark was not a question, Remus nonetheless attempted to decline her offer, but he was soon speaking to no one but himself and the unconscious boy. He shook his head, amused. Poppy tried to feed him every time he was in the hospital wing and had for years.

When the door opened a few moments later, he turned to try to explain once again that he wasn't hungry but stopped when he noticed the new arrival was Severus, carrying a potion and equally surprised to see Remus.

When no greeting or comment, scathing or otherwise, was forthcoming, Remus offered a response to the unspoken question: "I was in with Albus when he was notified."

A noncommittal shrug was all the acknowledgement he received.

Remus knew that Severus would be aware that Harry had both approached Remus and agreed to the ritual, and he wondered how much bearing that had on the other man's restraint.

"Severus – "

Remus hadn't the slightest idea what he intended to say, and was, in fact, curious to find out, but before he had the chance, there was a small movement from the bed.

Severus put the vial down, turned, and left the room so quickly that Remus felt he might have imagined the visit entirely, if it hadn't been for the potion on the table. He watched Harry slowly returning to consciousness and then looked back at the door Severus had exited so hastily. The relationship between Severus and Harry had improved significantly in the past year, but not enough, he feared, to weather the strain of the difficult times to come.

* * *

"_We still have to address living arrangements."_

_Harry stared at him blankly, and Remus elaborated, "Do you have preferences as to how rooms are assigned for your guests?"_

"_I have to bring Malfoy here? And Professor Snape? For the holidays?"_

"_I agree that Grimmauld Place is not ideal, but where else would you suggest?" Remus asked with more sarcasm in his voice than he would have liked. They'd been discussing various aspects of the situation for several hours, and it had been a difficult and emotionally charged discussion for both of them._

_Harry made a face. "Can't we just stay at Hogwarts?_

"_Harry, I know how much Hogwarts means to you, and I agree that in many respects staying there would improve things immeasurably, but neither of us has any official ties to the castle."_

_Some effort was required, but his tone remained even. "You've read enough to know that the bond reads emotions more than actual thoughts, and that given the historical intent, there are certain symbolic actions that traditionally strengthen the bonded pair, particularly the position of the _vectigal_. It's best if the _dominus_ brings the _vectigal_ to his home, the family home if he is underage. It's indicative of trust and an acknowledgement of his right of place."_

"_I know." Harry's reply was both exasperated, which Remus felt was unfair, and guilty, which urged him to forgive the former._

"_Since you haven't been able to access whatever Potter property remains or establish what is habitable, you certainly can't consider it home." Harry responded with a combined sigh and nod but didn't seem to have anything further to add, so Remus continued, keeping his tone mild. "You're not required to invite Severus as well, and I'm certain it will be difficult to persuade him, but it would be polite."_

_Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath while Remus waited silently. When Harry finally spoke, his voice was calmer, quieter. "Besides, Malfoy... He ought to have someone he likes." _

_Though Harry left it at that, Remus knew he was remembering his own years with the Dursleys_.

* * *

"Moony?"

Remus was pulled from his thoughts by the sleepy voice, and his response was filled with relief and pleasure. "Yes, Harry, it's me."

"That's nice." Not yet fully awake, his tone was unguarded, and his lazy contentment made Remus smile as he asked, "What is?"

Harry struggled to open his eyes. "You're here. Usually when I wake up in ..." his voice drifted off, and there was a pause as his forehead creased in concentration. "The hospital... wing? ...Is that right?"

"Yes, Harry, you're in the hospital wing at Hogwarts."

His face settled into a satisfied smile. "Thought so."

Remus's own smile deepened. Several of the many potions Poppy had used to treat Harry contained soporific ingredients, and she had warned Remus that a certain amount of stupor was to be expected.

"Usually when I wake up the only grownup here is Madam Pomfrey. Or Snape, with potions. Or the Headmaster, if it's 'cause of Voldemort or a Death Eater attack." He paused again, the furrow between his brows returning. "It wasn't, was it?"

He was trying to sit up and was getting frustrated when his limbs refused to respond as quickly as he expected.

"It's ok, Harry." Remus helped him lie back. "There was no attack; everyone else is fine."

The boy relaxed against the pillows, relieved. "Good." His expression changed to one of puzzlement. "What happened?"

"Just a small accident this morning in DADA."

"I can't remember." While not quite panicking, he was clearly distressed, but before Remus could explain, a third voice interjected, "That's perfectly normal, dear."

Harry and Remus turned to Madam Pomfrey, who was entering the room with two trays floating behind her. She set them on the table next to the potion Severus had left which she picked up and handed to Harry with the explanation that drinking it would help clear his head.

"Can you remember our names and where we are?"

Tentatively, as though any knowledge he had was suspect, he replied, "Madam Pomfrey, Remus Lupin, and Harry Potter, and we're in the Hogwarts hospital wing."

"Good." She shared an amused glance with Remus as she asked the next question. "What was the last Quidditch match you attended?"

Clearly relieved to remember something, Harry cautiously answered that and several other questions about his routine while the mediwitch performed another series of diagnostic spells. When she seemed to be satisfied with the information she was getting, and Harry was growing more assured as each answer proved correct, Remus felt the last of the fear and worry release him, and he fell back in his chair with relief.

Harry's frustration returned when he discovered that he still could not remember that morning's class, but Poppy assured him that some temporary memory loss was not unexpected and that the memories would likely return to him in time.

The only shadow that remained was that the questions Poppy had asked largely pertained to Harry's typical schedule and had little to do with the specifics of each day, leaving Remus uncertain that Harry remembered the unusual events of this week.

Because the hospital wing was equipped with powerful and complicated monitoring spells – necessary for Poppy to monitor the condition of her patients – a strong ward or imperturbable would not be possible without making it very clear that something had been cast, which would call Poppy to the room immediately and violate the attempt to preserve privacy. Because Harry was the only patient in the hospital wing at the moment, however, the risk would be minimal as long as the door was closed, so when Poppy left them alone with instructions to drink the potion and eat before leaving, Remus decided it was worth the risk.

"When was the last time you saw me?"

"Yesterday, before lunch." Harry met his gaze evenly and replied with quiet confidence, leaving Remus with no doubt he remembered.

He nodded, silently acknowledging that. "How did it go, yesterday afternoon?"

Harry sat forward and rested his arms on his knees. "The Headmaster wasn't at lunch, so I didn't have a chance to talk to him until later. But there was a potions accident in last class, and–"

Knowing how meticulous the potions master was, particularly in the lab, Remus realized what must have happened with perfect clarity. "Severus didn't bother to eat in the Great Hall."

Harry grimaced slightly in wordless affirmation before recapping the events of the previous evening. It was obvious that Harry was paraphrasing and leaving out certain details.

Remus knew Severus far too well to believe that he had endured the uncertainty of the past week and the heightened suspense of the day, culminating in a class with both boys, only to stand meekly waiting for Harry to announce his decision. He also knew that Harry and Severus had a fair bit of practice at acknowledging and forgiving verbal ambushes. Since Harry seemed uncomfortable as he danced around the details rather than angry or bitter, Remus assumed that there was no lingering resentment on his part, though from Severus's hasty departure, he couldn't rule out an imminent confrontation entirely.

Before he could warn Harry to expect it, if he wasn't already, Madam Pomfrey entered to admonish them for not eating and to remind them that it was nearly time for afternoon classes to begin.

* * *

He didn't know exactly what prompted him to arrive early for class on Friday afternoon. Yes, it was CATS: Healing, and yes, it was held in the hospital wing, and yes, that's where Potter was recovering, but really, all that simply made things worse – because there was no way anyone would let him enter that room.

_Even if I _were_ permitted access, I'd have to refuse, since that ..._ creature_ has spies everywhere, and both he – _it_ and its _Lord_ would be watching for any out of character behaviour from me, especially where Potter is concerned._

And he had proof they were watching.

The letter he'd received at breakfast may have sounded concerned, but it hadn't been intended to put him at ease. It had been a very obvious warning that someone – and Draco had his suspicions as to who – had noticed his fluctuating magic levels, possibly his fatigue, and had reported it.

The ambiguous M could be interpreted as standing for 'Mother' if the letter was intercepted or if Draco were asked, but he knew the truth. Regardless of the penmanship and discrete signature that had been used to disguise it, he knew it was from his father.

It was typical of Lucius's pride, that even in hiding he would sign some version of _his_ name. He'd never done anything else. Even when he wasn't a fugitive, when he'd been Draco's father – Draco refused to honour him with that title any longer – he'd always signed his infrequent letters 'Lucius Malfoy', as though without the full name Draco would forget who the man was and the power he held.

His mother always signed her letters "Mum" if she knew her husband would not intercept the post; she saved 'Mother' for those times when Lucius might see since he disapproved of diminutives. As it was, he thought 'Mother' was excessively familiar and indulgent but conceded that it would be tolerated until Draco came of age. It was his idea of a compromise.

There had been few instances of rebellion by Narcissa Malfoy against her husband, but those that existed were usually small and almost exclusively on behalf of her son.

Lucius had very strict beliefs about family, the roles of each member within it, and the duty owed to him as the head of the household, and he had few qualms about the methods he used to ensure that his expectations were met. Nothing so crass as a beating, but not all scars are visible.

For a few years after the fall of the Dark Lord, things were nearly idyllic. Lucius had been away most of the time, rebuilding his reputation within the Ministry and Narcissa could join Draco in the nursery for games and stories. Uncle Severus had been there, too, letting Draco watch as he worked, playing with him sometimes, letting him help with potions as he grew older, helping him learn all the things he was expected to know as the Malfoy heir...

It had all come to an end one day not long after his eighth birthday. He'd hurried downstairs, hoping to be able to say good night to his godfather before he left, when he'd heard Lucius and Severus speaking in his father's study.

Hidden in the hallway, he'd listened in stunned silence as his father thanked Severus for his dedication to his duty as godfather to the Malfoy heir. Lucius had admitted that he had permitted Narcissa's choice despite his own doubts but allowed that Severus had served admirably. Then, to Draco's horror, he had declared that it was time to get a _proper_ tutor, and asked that Severus refrain from visiting the Manor unless specifically invited.

While Lucius had rationalized his request by suggesting that Draco – "the boy" – would have difficulty with multiple authority figures, having to obey conflicting taskmasters, Draco had waited in vain for Severus to refuse, for a declaration that Draco was more important than to him than a mere student. It had hurt, at the time, that his godfather – whom he'd pretended so often was his father by blood – had simply left him.

Now, of course, he understood; he'd realized that refusing would have enabled Lucius to forcibly keep Severus away and that he'd done the only thing he could if he wanted to maintain any contact with them at all.

Already wary of Snape, a school friend of Narcissa's and a rival for the coveted honour of the Dark Lord, Lucius had been visibly thrilled to deprive his wife and son of their friend and would relish the opportunity to do so permanently.

Capitulating kept Lucius secure in his belief that he had control and would hopefully keep him from demanding that Draco go to Durmstrang. Knowing that, Draco would not have traded his future for the momentary satisfaction of an argument. The feelings of a little boy were hardly significant, were even trivial. As much as it had hurt at the time that Uncle Severus didn't fight to stay, he was glad he'd witnessed the conversation since he hadn't been given any other explanation for his godfather's sudden disappearance.

Draco had been moved out of the nursery and into the suite of rooms that he currently– that he _had_ occupied, and a tutor was brought to the Manor, a strict and dour man who ensured that Draco had little time that wasn't structured and occupied by practical tasks. He saw his mother infrequently and usually only at meals or otherwise in the company of Lucius.

His father had been home much more regularly and for longer periods of time, which was a mixed blessing. He was inconsistent, scheduling times that he would spend with Draco without specifying whether that time would be spent training or having fun. Draco wouldn't know until his arrival, when Lucius would have in hand either book or broom.

His father had taught him how to fly and had taken him on interesting outings, and those were some of his most treasured memories. Though fascinating in their own way, his lessons in advanced and often Dark spellcasting had not been nearly as enjoyable. Lucius was a demanding teacher, and though Draco tried very hard to meet his standards, he never fully managed to do so. Nothing was accomplished with the speed or finesse that Lucius expected.

Things deteriorated further once Draco began his studies at Hogwarts. Lucius was less patient with infractions, and it did not bode well when Draco's very first task, befriending Harry Potter, was a dismal failure. Dependent upon the reports of Draco's professors, and without daily contact to ensure he worked to the best of his effort and ability, Lucius was unconvinced that he was doing so and demanded demonstrations of his knowledge and skill during the holidays and, occasionally, during Hogsmeade visits.

Since the Dark Lord's return, Lucius was determined to regain his status as the Dark Lord's right hand at any cost, and he intended to make whatever use of Draco he could to achieve that end.

Until recently, that had seemed to require that Draco be trained as a second potions master; his Aunt Bellatix was vehement in her accusations that Severus was the traitor, and while the Dark Lord was aware that she was a prime candidate for the Janus Thickey Ward, he wasn't unwilling to take additional precautions. A perfect example of the difference between the leadership of the Dark and Light factions.

There were problems in the wizarding world, problems that neither Dumbledore nor the Ministry was willing to acknowledge, let alone address and solve. It was the primary reason the Dark Lord had been able to gather such a large, devoted following. His solutions and his methods of obtaining them were impractical at best, but very few people discovered that before they were branded. Unfortunately, the fear and condemnation of the Ministry and the Wizarding public made it impossible for Death Eaters to repent without repercussions. Once any useful knowledge was culled, their safety was hardly a concern. A problem, since the Dark Lord killed traitors.

What Draco really wanted was to remain neutral, but he wasn't naive enough to believe that was a possibility. He never had been.

His mother hadn't been enthusiastic about his disinterest – knowing he was considering going against both the Dark Lord and her husband, he hadn't expected her to be – but she'd at least _seemed_ sympathetic and willing to compromise. She'd allowed him to negotiate the inclusion of CATS: Healing into his schedule, provided he also registered for the subjects Lucius expected him to take. It left him with a heavy course load but enabled him to balance his own desire to pursue Healing with that of the Dark Lord for a second Potions Master.

From those conversations and others he suspected that his mother did not share her husband's enthusiasm for the Dark Lord, which was why her behaviour on Saturday was so unexpected. He knew she was being watched – she always was – but her participation was far more hurtful than his father's cold interpretation of familial duty. He'd expected some sort of warning from her; she'd always managed it in the past.

It made him wonder why Lucius had bothered to send this morning's message himself, if his mother– if _Narcissa_ was a willing participant in the scheme. It would be far less suspicious for it to have been sent directly from her. Then again, it would have been far less effective. If the message had arrived even a day earlier, the content of the letter would have been of some concern, if not absolutely terrifying.

Last night, however, everything had changed.

Last night, Potter had agreed to the bonding.

Draco hadn't been able to talk with his godfather after CATS: DA; the older man had barely taken the time to confirm that Potter had in fact agreed before he had stalked determinedly out of the dungeons, but that alone had been enough for Draco to enjoy the best night's sleep he'd had in ages.

The fear and anticipation of the last few months, the dread of the last few weeks, coupled with class work (NEWTS were called 'Nastily Exhausting' for a reason) and other projects – it had been incredibly stressful. This week had been by far the most uncomfortable physically, magically, and emotionally, as his body adjusted to the demands of the bond and suffered its displeasure at the secrecy. The soreness in his back, shoulders, and joints and the feeling of a constant deep chill had been getting progressively more intense, and Draco had been hard pressed to continue with his usual routine without anyone noticing his discomfort. Pain was not his forte; it never had been.

In the few hours since Potter had agreed, it had all but disappeared.

Draco's spells had been both strong and consistent that morning, and even when Potter was knocked out after hitting the shield spell that he had cast, his magic had hardly wavered, certainly not enough to have demonstrable effects. As lunch progressed, however, he had found it increasingly difficult to sit still. He had finally given in to temptation, leaving the Great Hall and heading to the hospital wing.

The general ward had been empty, and Draco would have assumed Potter had already been discharged if it hadn't been for two things.

The first was the vague sense of... _awareness_ that since Sunday he'd felt whenever Potter was near. It was imprecise and ephemeral but strangely comforting, and it had grown stronger over the course of the week. Given the lack of potential _domini_ in his general vicinity and the sparsity of available information about the bonding process, Draco was uncertain if the bond was identifying general candidates or his chosen, but he knew it recognized Harry Potter.

The second and more straightforward clue was the school's Potions Master, who was walking towards him via the hallway that led to the private rooms, which were used when patients were contagious, in critical condition, or required to sleep undisturbed until they woke naturally.

Draco lamented the lack of privacy as he dearly wanted to speak with Severus. Unfortunately while Draco was early for class, he was not so much so that there was time to leave for a substantial conversation and return without being late. They settled for making arrangements to meet later that afternoon, after Draco's class.

So he was left waiting, and it would seem very suspicious for Draco to be loitering in the vicinity of the only other Parselmouth he knew. The main ward and the private rooms, except for the one he believed Potter to be in, were all empty, but Draco knew that Granger, for certain, would be arriving shortly.

Since the third week of term, she had a standing appointment with Poppy before each class, to discuss any questions about the preparatory material they had read. She'd asked them during class the second week, and while Draco had followed the discussion and even contributed to it, Abbott and Greengrass had been so confused by the advanced theory that it had taken the better part of the afternoon to sort them out.

It was to be expected, since neither of them had the interest nor the intelligence for the complexities of the subject. Abbot was bright enough to realize that there was an impending war and foolish enough to believe that she could help in the infirmary despite being too squeamish to assist in battle. Greengrass seemed to be taking the course because Draco was. In fact, her greatest motivation seemed to be curiosity about his romantic interests, but he would not, under any circumstances, be interested in any of the girls in CATS: Healing. Fortunately, she was bright enough to be able to follow the set material and sufficiently indifferent to the political climate that she was unlikely to examine his behaviour as clearly as an ally or enemy would.

Unwilling to loiter in the hall and unable to check on Potter directly, Draco decided to take inventory of the potions in the supply cupboard of the hospital wing. The advantage to that particular task was the location. It was a long, narrow room with a door near either end, and one of them was nearly opposite the room Potter was occupying. The proximity would allow him to monitor the traffic into the room and hopefully enable Draco to learn more about his current status and prognosis.

He made sure the far door was closed, as it was very near to Poppy's office and he did not want to disturb her or encourage discovery, but he left the other open, for air – its proximity to the door to Potter's room was entirely coincidental.

A few moments later, he was idly noting that they were low on Deflating Draught and Skele-Gro when Poppy arrived to check on her patient, and he heard Potter ask what had happened. He sounded groggy but aware, and Draco's bond thrummed a bit in response. He had time to hear the reply to Potter's question before the door was closed, and he had to work to push aside the emotions that evoked as well. It had been years since he'd heard it, but there was too much history there for him not to recognize that voice.

Draco's relief at discovering that Potter intended to ask Remus Lupin to adopt him had been profound, surpassed only by learning that Potter was willing to perform _Fidelitās Dominō_. He'd been making his way to the Great Hall on Wednesday when he met up with McGonagall who had Potter in tow. The encounter would have been insignificant but for the pointed look Potter gave him as he left, which indicated something of importance. Unfortunately, Draco didn't understand the relevance. He'd puzzled over it through dinner and had finally gone to Severus that evening. When Draco described the exchange to his godfather, Severus had relaxed noticeably and explained that Lupin was one of the likeliest candidates for adopting Potter.

Draco'd had nightmares that Potter would refuse to consider taking steps to equalize the bond, that Draco would become little more than the pet of the Boy Who Lived, and he was appalled at the realization that he sincerely preferred bonding himself under even those conditions to any of his non-Potter alternatives. He was also ashamed to admit that he was nearly certain that he wouldn't have been as generous if their situations had been reversed.

Since Saturday, much of his time had been spent trying to accept that as Potter's bonded, Draco would have to spend a great deal of the rest of his life with and learn to be pleasant to – or at least polite to and respectful of – whomever Potter chose as his guardian, regardless of whether it was the Weasleys, his own Muggle relatives, or Granger's.

Each of the possibilities was daunting, but the latter two terrified him. Learning to redefine his life and his status in the world would be difficult enough without the added challenges of adapting to the Muggle world.

He'd never taken Muggle Studies, and it was not a subject about which Lucius permitted questions. There were half-bloods in Slytherin, but none were close friends, and they generally tended to play down any differences. The Muggle-borns in other houses were absolutely baffling. He'd noticed them staring incredulously at things like broomsticks, which he could understand since they would obviously be foreign, but they gawked also at portraits which seemed strange since he was reasonably certain they had them.

It defied comprehension. It was also the only thing that made the thought of the Weasleys tolerable.

Draco had been taught since he was old enough to understand that families like the Weasleys were the primary problem in the Wizarding world, since they refused to protect that world from the erosive influences of the Muggles. Instead, they welcomed Muggle-born wizards who brought with them Muggle traditions and culture, refusing to even attempt to understand the existing Wizarding ones. As a result, the latter were being lost.

In Arthur Weasley's case, only the Muggle-born fears of having a Pureblood wizard as the Head of Muggle Relations had kept him from being promoted in that department. Regardless of his competency or his enthusiasm, he wouldn't move higher than his current position in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office because of his blood status. It was the only department in the Ministry which was legally permitted to discriminate on such grounds.

The family hadn't been well off since Draco's great-uncle Arcturus Black had set out to ruin them, but they'd never been as impoverished as they were now. With that huge family to support and the stagnation of his career, they had been forced to regularly dip into their reserves. Draco really couldn't understand how the senior Weasley could be as pro-Muggle as he was under those circumstances.

Lack of professional acumen aside, Draco would still have had difficulties accepting a place in their household. He'd seen them at King's Cross and the Ministry; the mother was loud and obvious, the father was capricious and _amiable_ – hardly an exemplary head of the family. It was no wonder he was unable to exert any control over his children.

Peter – or whatever his name was, the one who had been Head Boy a couple of years ago – who had gone to work for the Ministry after graduation, he'd chosen the Ministry, chosen it above _family, _when his loyalties had conflicted. The twins had proved to be completely disrespectful of authority, regardless of whether they supported that authority ideologically or not, and had left Hogwarts in the middle of their NEWT year in a display that was still talked about. They'd opened a joke shop, and their parents _couldn't_ be pleased. Ronald had clearly been given the Prefecture by default (Draco's best guess was that Potter had refused it, having other matters that needed his attention; Finnigan was too interested in chasing anything in a skirt; Longbottom, too timid; and Thomas, too quiet) because the youngest – _Please, Merlin!_ – Weasley boy was both arbitrary and precipitate in performing his duties. Draco had heard tell of other, older brothers, who'd graduated Hogwarts before Draco began, but he hadn't heard of them since, so he doubted they'd made much of themselves. The best of the lot seemed to be the daughter, who was generally acknowledged as one of the most powerful witches in the school, and _she_'d been possessed by the Dark Lord.

It would be difficult enough, learning to accept and adjust to Potter as his _dominus_, but to have to do so in a milieu as uncomfortable as being restricted to the company of Muggles or the Weasels... It was not something Draco had been looking forward to in the slightest.

If Lupin adopted him, things could be so much better. There was hope.

When Lupin had assumed the DADA position four years ago, Lucius had made it clear that Draco was not expected to expend a great deal of effort ingratiating himself with the new professor. Snape, too, did not seem to hold him in very high esteem, but Draco had been surprised to find that he had enjoyed his third year Defence classes. Lupin had been the first decent professor they'd had in the subject, obviously, but he'd also been a better educator than many of the others at Hogwarts.

When confronted with paternal pressure, Draco had resorted to ridiculing the man's attire – behind his back only, he hadn't quite been able to do it to his face – partly in the hope that it would prompt him to take more care with his appearance. It wasn't until the end of the year when Draco learned of Lupin's lycanthropy that he understood why his professor was dressed as if he were a Weasley. It had been a shock to discover that such a clever and competent wizard, someone he'd admired, was at the same time a half-breed, a creature that he had been taught to fear. It was one of the first moments he had experienced of life challenging his father's dictates.

Regardless of his own political leanings or where he'd been sorted, Lupin had been scrupulously fair in his classes, rewarding and punishing students from each House alike. It had been no surprise, therefore, when having overheard Draco complaining about Hagrid's teaching methods – an understandable concern since they would leave him with no chance of passing whatever test his father would devise on the subject – he had assigned Draco a detention.

What had been surprising was that as Draco was leaving afterwards, Lupin had listed a few texts which would supplement his Care of Magical Creatures course. Draco had stormed out of the room on principle but couldn't resist checking the library. The books which had been suggested had been detailed and interesting, exactly what he'd needed to survive Lucius's examinations. Draco stopped by the professor's office on his way back to his dorm that evening and managed to thank him.

During the course of the year, Draco had continued to visit Professor Lupin when he was alone in the evening under the pretence of questions about assignments while in reality taking the opportunity to discuss any number of subjects – Defence, of course, the finer points of arithmancy, animagistry, even touching obliquely on political matters. They hadn't spoken often or for long periods of time, but the visits had meant a great deal to him. It had been a rare comfort to be allowed to be himself, whoever that was, for a few moments rather than the role he'd been forced to maintain in public.

Draco was torn from his thoughts when he heard the door to Potter's room open. He stilled, but Madam Pomfrey was the only one who exited. Before he could relax again, he heard Granger near the main entrance.

The medi-witch assured Hermione that Harry was fine, eating, with Remus, and there was no need to disturb him; recognizing that pressing the point would lead to a lecture on the often opposing demands of friend versus health professional, Granger agreed, disappointed. Once Poppy and Granger were closeted in the matron's office with the door closed, Draco expected a return to silent contemplation. He was surprised to hear conversation instead.

"I hope he wasn't too hard on you."

Draco edged around the cupboard and peeked out the open crack of the door to confirm that Poppy had indeed left the door to Potter's room slightly ajar when she'd left.

"It was weird, he – " Another pause. "It was fine. Just – fine."

"And Draco?"

"It's hard." Draco wished he could see the other boy; his tone was hard to read and a glimpse of his expression and body language would help. "I know Malfoy has been awful in the past, but he's been better in the last year or so."

"I am aware that Draco, like Severus, has been forced to maintain a certain role in public." Draco was surprised at how relieved he was that the older man had understood the reasons behind Draco's cutting remarks.

"Why anyone would work _for_ that image is beyond me."

Draco heard Potter's comment and immediately tensed. How in the name of Merlin was he supposed to trust and submit himself to someone so oblivious and, and– Gryffindor! He almost wished he could find a _dominus_ who understood Wizarding and Slytherin traditions but stopped the thought when he realized that he was describing the Dark Lord.

"Harry– " Lupin paused. Draco assumed he was trying to find words that were both diplomatic and simple enough for him to understand.

"Your status as the Boy Who Lived in the Wizarding world and as Dudley's cousin with the Muggles are wildly divergent, and that has unavoidably coloured your experiences in each. Draco's situation is similar, something of a mirror image, and his descent had been effected deliberately, the result of an intentional betrayal by his family. He's a proud boy, Harry, who will have to kneel at the feet of his rival. Think about that. Add to that the compulsions and the credulous nature of the bond. Think about how you would react in his situation."

Knowing what he did about Potter's status in the wizarding world, Lupin's lecture intimated a great deal about his life with his relatives. Draco pushed it aside to think about later, when the pain inflicted by the truth of Lupin's blunt words had faded.

"You're not a terribly patient person by nature, Harry, and neither is Draco. Both of you will need to work on that, and there's not much margin for error within the confines of your new relationship."

Draco was aware of how important it was that he, as well as Potter, take Lupin's words to heart. Gryffindor intentions or not, Draco couldn't rely solely on Potter; he knew too well what the other boy's temper was like – he'd become an expert in baiting it the last few years. Even when he wasn't deliberately trying, Draco had a tendency to lash out verbally when he was under stress, and attacking the Gryffindors when pressured by Lucius had quickly become an ingrained habit. It was fortuitous that he'd been practising restraint all term, or the situation would be even more dire.

In the silence following Lupin's remarks, as Draco waited for Potter to respond, he heard a noise, a snick that sounded like a door. Draco held his breath, afraid that they'd closed the door properly, but in another moment the conversation continued, and Draco slowly exhaled.

"I know, and I'll try to be supportive and understanding. I just... It's such an important step. I mean, it's a _really_ big deal. I'm scared; he must be terrified. He's giving up everything, almost everyone he's ever cared about, and what will he get in exchange? A bunch of people he's always hated, and me! And after the dreadful way I treated him in Potions, I don't see how he can want to... I mean, it's _me_! How can he be comfortable with this?"

"You'll need to talk to him, Harry."

"I know."

They were close to the door now, and Draco, frozen somewhere between elation and stunned disbelief, waited for the two of them to leave the room so he could begin to process what he'd overheard.

They hadn't moved more than a few feet down the hall before Potter was being stopped by Granger. Clearly she'd finished with Poppy, and he was disconcerted to realize that he had no idea how long she'd been there.

He hadn't noticed her from where he was standing, and he had no idea_ if_ she could hear any of the conversation, let alone what exactly she had heard. Judicious observation in CATS: Healing would likely answer the question; Granger was not know for her discretion.

Once the voices had moved out of range, he closed the doors to the supply room and decided to circle around, so that he'd approach the Matron's office from the other side, as though he'd just been to the loo. With luck, no one would know he'd heard anything at all.


	8. Paths Divergent

_I'm no longer going to even attempt to justify my tardy updates or speculate about when the next one will happen. The more I do, the worse it gets. That being said, with warmest birthday wishes to (_Choosing Family'_s) Draco and Beta Tithenai, here is the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it._

_All rights to the world of _Harry Potter_ belong to J.K. Rowling and a number of very large corporations, none of which is me, and I do not intend to make any money whatsoever from this endeavour._

_Particular thanks must be given to my lovely Betas Tithenai and __ Phoenix Writing__, who have helped make this a much better story in both style and content. Any mistakes which remain are, indubitably, my own. _

_Additional notes are available before the prologue._

_Constructive criticism is always very much appreciated._

Originally posted 13 Dec. '07

**Paths Divergent**

The walk from the hospital wing to the dungeons on Friday afternoon was not as straightforward as one would expect. Knowing that Draco Malfoy would be heading in the reverse direction for his own class, Harry hoped to choose a route that would keep them from running into each other in the hallways. That in itself was not unusual, but the reasons for it had changed, and he had mixed feeling about that.

He hadn't enjoyed having to warily turn corners, watching for Slytherins waiting to ambush him, and he was grateful that had stopped. It was one of the outcomes he'd hoped for when he and Hermione had convinced the Gryffindors to back off, and it was one of the greatest benefits.

Malfoy had been unexpectedly professional in his dealings with Hermione and Ron as Head Girl and Prefect, taking his responsibilities as Head Boy very seriously, and even before the recent Hogsmeade trip, Malfoy had rarely been around, which made it easy for them to keep out of each other's way. Things had toned down on the Quidditch pitch, even. Urqhart, the Slytherin captain, had the team practising _playing_ rather than cheating and terrorizing the opposing team. Harry may have won their match last month, but Malfoy – Harry's best competition on the pitch, if he were being honest – had played a very good game, and without the dirty tactics the team usually employed, his skill had been obvious even to the most casual observer.

As nice as the change was, this year's lack of animosity was really only indicative of a concentrated effort on both their parts to resist provoking confrontation. How would "Potter" and "Malfoy" manage when they were bound and living together, negotiating a new, forced balance of power?

Obviously, Harry would have to apologize first thing for the way he'd just left after Potions on Monday – and he wanted to – but he had no idea how to do that without explaining about the dream, which was something he would prefer to avoid. In fact, he'd be perfectly happy to never even _think_ about that dream ever again. It had been far more terrifying than anything he'd witnessed through Voldemort's mind, and he simply couldn't forget it.

_Slytherin does not equal evil._ Hermione had been preaching that all term, and Harry had even come to believe it. But Slytherin _was_ the House of the ambitious and the likeliest to succumb to the Dark Arts. Most importantly, the Sorting Hat had wanted to place him there, had thought he'd suit. It had said he had a thirst to prove himself. _Maybe I do_, he conceded reluctantly, _but surely not at any expense_. What if what the Hat had seen was not his connection to Voldemort or that he was a Parselmouth, but that he was predisposed to abuse power over others? He'd dragged his friends into any number of dangerous situations, from the third floor corridor in first year to the fight at Azkaban in sixth. Even worse was when he'd brought them to the Ministry – he'd taken advantage of more than just Ron and Hermione that time.

Harry knew his reluctance to commit to _Fidelitās Dominō_ had disappointed Remus, who had assumed that his doubts were the result of second-guessing his "saving people thing" and that he didn't recognize the seriousness of the situation or Malfoy's lack of options. Amazingly, though, when Remus had broached the subject, it hadn't sounded condescending or critical. Much to Harry's amusement, it had sounded like Hermione quizzing his comprehension of a homework reading, but he'd felt increasingly confident as Remus nodded approvingly without identifying all sorts of things he'd forgotten.

Unfortunately, that didn't lessen the guilt he felt for letting Remus's assumption stand. It was awful, knowing that he'd already managed to fall short of his soon-to-be guardian's expectations, but he simply couldn't tell Remus the real problem. He couldn't tell Remus about the dream. He knew Remus wouldn't understand. _Face it, Harry, he'd be horrified, and rightly so._

Harry might not be so adept at Occlumency that he could keep Voldemort out of his head entirely, but he did have a firm grasp of the foundations, and he was able to differentiate between his own thoughts and Voldemort's manipulations. Not at the time, maybe, but once he woke up, he could distinguish between his own thoughts and emotions and those that Voldemort had planted. He knew full well that that dream had been entirely his. He'd been the one to imagine it, and he'd been the one revelling in it. The thrill at the fear of the others, the pleasure of ownership, the sensual enjoyment of the ribbon and Malfoy's hair – that had all been him. And that was terrifying.

Eventually, he had decided to go ahead with the bonding anyway, despite his doubts, fervently hoping they wouldn't negatively influence the bond or any future relationship, personal or magical, between him and Malfoy.

_I can't believe I'm planning a future relationship of any sort with Malfoy_, Harry thought. He tried to imagine his reaction if someone had told him years ago that this would be his future. During detention in the Forbidden Forest, maybe, or on the train at the end of fourth year. Before he could get himself too worked up about their history, Harry forced himself to stop. Malfoy had been a nasty prat – still was, at times – but he'd been tolerable this year at least, and _this_ was the Malfoy he'd be living with. Now that he'd decided to do this, he would have to do his best to put it aside even if he couldn't yet manage to forgive or forget.

Trying to think of something else, he hit upon a guaranteed distraction: he remembered how awkward his last encounter with Snape had been and how much more so this coming meeting was likely to be.

Harry knew how proud Snape was. That – regardless of however important his relationship with Malfoy was to him – he would unbend enough to ask Harry for a personal favour... It was a little overwhelming, in the way that "little" could be used to describe Grawp.

There was a part of him that wanted to tell someone about the conversation – not to gloat, but because he _knew_ how significant it was. Harry had never seen or even heard of Snape asking anyone for anything, and he was so pleased, so _honoured_ that he'd ask something of _Harry_. He'd almost said something to Remus, but before he'd more than opened his mouth, he'd stopped, aware that he couldn't repay a gift of that magnitude with a betrayal that was even greater. He'd known their relationship was getting better, certainly from Harry's perspective it had improved tremendously, but he hadn't even considered that it could have been mutual.

Harry's only regret was that the revelation had been prompted by his own cowardice.

Knowing that Snape's mood would likely be worse than usual, he braced himself as he knocked on the door and entered. A single glance at the professor confirmed his assumption. Snape was standing behind the desk and the neatly stacked piles of parchment that covered it, but he didn't look up from the parchment in his hand or otherwise acknowledge Harry for several moments. The Gryffindor tried not to fidget, knowing that providing additional provocation was hardly a good idea.

When Snape finally spoke, the tone managed to be both offhand and snide. "You're late."

"Madam Pomfrey had a few questions before she'd release me from the hospital wing."

"And_ why_, pray tell, were you in the hospital wing?" He still hadn't looked up from whatever he was reading, and Harry couldn't help but think that that might be a good thing. Pomfrey had mentioned that the potion had been made especially, and Snape hated being told information that he already knew, so Harry knew this had to be leading somewhere, likely into a trap, but he couldn't see how to avoid it. "There was an accident in DADA."

"An 'accident.'"

"Yes. Sir." Snape no longer demanded he use the honorific in private, but it was safer when the professor was in this sort of mood.

"What sort of _accident_ was it, Mr. Potter? Specifically." Snape prompted in a soft, silky tone that was only slightly terrifying.

Harry was certain that he'd heard the story, so the question made him even more nervous. Still unable to remember the events for himself, Harry repeated what he'd been told: the class had been divided into four teams; each team had to capture the flag of the team designated as their opposition while avoiding the other two. Harry had been hit by an assortment of spells, two sent by the team opposing his and one stray hex from across the room. Collectively, they had knocked him unconscious and into Malfoy's shield.

"And your position within your team?"

_Bollocks_. Knowing his answer would only make things worse, Harry sighed. "I was on point." The first into enemy territory, it was his job to lead the group safely, _not_ draw attention to them.

"So you were visible, vulnerable, unaware of the positioning of neutral bystanders, not only unprepared to defend but, in fact, drawing attention to both yourself and your team... Did you manage to secure the flag at least?" he finished snidely.

"I don't know," Harry mumbled. He should have realized that Snape – one of his principle instructors in combat and duelling techniques – would be most concerned about that aspect, and he tried to defend himself. "It wasn't a battle. It was just class, and we– "

"That is exactly the point, Potter!" Snape interrupted loudly. "How can you possibly expect to defeat the most insignificant of Death Eaters let alone the Dark Lord if you cannot defend against your classmates! Your reactions must be innate. Do you realize how many Death Eaters will be targeting you personally? I don't have a great deal of confidence in your chances of success if you can be taken down by _children_." Harry considered mentioning that the Death Eaters had been defeated by some of those same children but didn't think that would help his case.

"I thought I wasn't supposed to 'flaunt my training'? I thought I was supposed to let them underestimate me!"

"Regardless of... extenuating circumstances, I expect to be addressed with due respect." Snape may have begun his tirade in a near shout, but he finished it with a chilling whisper. "Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir." One of these days he might be able to hold his temper around Snape. He hadn't been certain that he'd manage it, since he'd be leaving Hogwarts at the end of the year, but with three extra years of exposure to the man and the extra practice... .

"Is there anything you would have needed to know or do to succeed this morning that you have not already learned at Hogwarts or demonstrated publicly?"

He may not have attended every DA meeting this year – Ginny had assumed the running of it, since the seventh years were preoccupied with N.E.W.T.s, C.A.T.S., and other duties – but his skills were no secret to its members, and history had shown that it was possible that there was at least one traitor in any group. That also didn't take into account the altercations he'd already had with Death Eaters or Voldemort himself.

He shook his head. He might not remember today's class, but he knew his friends and their strengths and weaknesses. The sheer number of hours he'd spent training should have prepared him, conditioning his reaction times well beyond those of his classmates.

"Then I can assure you that _that_ niffler is already hunting. All of the sacrifices that have been and will be made will count for _naught_ if he is not defeated."

Harry thought it best not to say anything and simply nodded. He considered broaching the subject of the prophesy – he hadn't thought Snape knew about it – but he refrained, hoping that they would be moving on to other topics, ones which might not be any less difficult but would be less of an attack on him personally. As the silence stretched, he heard his professor ruffling through the sheets in front of him, and Harry let himself relax.

This was, as it turned out, a bad decision.

"Why did you wait so long?"

"Sir?" Harry didn't understand the question. It had been asked so calmly that Harry knew the leap his own mind had made couldn't be the correct one.

"It was clear from the first conversation in the headmaster's office. Why the dithering?" Harry was a little surprised that Snape would ask and not quite sure what he should say. A question that direct, at least from this Slytherin, was a challenge, a dare even, to give an easy answer and present Snape with an excuse to have at him. In light of Snape's trust in showing vulnerability yesterday and Harry's disappointing performance earlier this morning, Harry decided the man deserved honesty.

"I was scared." Harry waited for the mocking that he was certain would follow, but that was communicated eloquently with no more than a raised eyebrow. There was no verbal response at all. "What if he's made a mistake? What if I'm no better than Vol– Tom?"

Snape made a dismissive gesture with his hand, and Harry continued before he could follow it with a scathing remark.

"I led the DA for six months and dragged five of my friends into a trap, nearly getting them killed. I'm a figurehead for the entire bloody wizarding world, which means it's only going to get worse. Adding a slave bond with a traditional rival could be very bad for both of us. Things are bad enough for Malfoy as it is. Why wouldn't he try... I don't know... something else – hoping really hard that the bond won't find him suitable? That would be the best-case scenario, wouldn't it, that the bond wouldn't take hold?" Unable to stand still any longer, he moved restlessly, aimlessly around the room.

"What if I'm too much like... Him? In some ways, we're very similar: orphaned, ignored growing up, then there's this new world that opens up, and ..." His voice trailed off at the thought of what that had meant to him and what it would have meant to Tom Riddle. "We have twin wand cores, did you know? 'The wand chooses the wizard.'" _And the Sorting Hat wanted me in Slytherin, too_.

He stopped in front of the fireplace, and with his eyes focussed intently on the flames, he found himself telling his professor about The Dream. He spoke quickly, as if in doing so he wouldn't notice what he was saying or to whom. He hadn't been able to bring himself to tell Remus, but he needed to tell _someone_, and Snape might understand. Harry knew what the Death Eaters were capable of: he'd witnessed it firsthand. He knew his professor had done horrific things himself in Voldemort's service.

He continued to watch the flames, waiting for judgement to be passed. It was surprising, how much harder the wait was for this jury of one than for the entirety of the Wizengamot. The silence stretched until, unable to bear not knowing any longer, he turned around to find his professor staring at him with an expression that was very hard to interpret.

"If you had been in possession of any sense whatsoever, Mr. Potter, when you arrived, you would have asked that the Sorting Hat place you in _any_ House but Gryffindor. Your martyr complex is quite possibly unparalleled and needs no encouragement." What shocked Harry most was the mildness, in both tenor and tone, of the comment and the question that followed it. "When did you contact Lupin?"

Harry knew better than to even think of lying. His answer, "Late Sunday night," garnered a noncommittal nod and another question. "When did you speak with him?"

"Wednesday after dinner about the mentoring spell, Thursday morning about the bonding." Given how tightly strung he was, the lack of reaction was almost worse than the shouting he had expected. Almost.

"Why did you delay?"

"Remus had things to do. He said he could rearrange them," Harry qualified hastily when he saw the blackening of Snape's expression, "but I didn't want him to be rushed or preoccupied when he was deciding. And I needed time to find out what I was asking Remus to do, before I asked him. I needed to know if it was bearable." _For him and for me_.

There was no response other than "You were given a deadline" in that same cool and emotionless voice. It was a statement of fact rather than a question, but the silence that followed was so intolerable that Harry nodded anyway.

"The headmaster said he needed to know by Thursday," he confirmed. He stopped abruptly when Snape raised his hand in a dismissive gesture.

"Clearly any delay was not in Draco's best interest." Harry flinched, but the Potions master continued without acknowledging it. "In the _short term_. Why do you suppose the headmaster gave you such a long time to decide?"

Harry didn't have an answer to that, which was just as well, since he wasn't given a chance to respond.

"Draco has been trained his entire life to be loyal to Lucius and to the Malfoy heritage. He may be having doubts about Lucius's interpretation of what that means, but that will have only strengthened his sense of duty towards his family. There is no possibility that the bond will not accept him." Snape sighed wearily before continuing. "Draco had no other palatable alternatives. He, myself, the headmaster – we have all accepted that. Apart from all other considerations, it would take _years_ to research the character, magical strength, and location of any other known speaker of Parseltongue, and Merlin knows how long to convince any potential candidate to consider defying the Dark Lord – had you considered why there are no other Parselmouths in Great Britain? It would not be possible to keep his – our – defiance a secret, nor would we be able to hide from his wrath for that long. Your own personal experiences aside, the Dark Lord does tend to anticipate and impede most, if not all, avenues of escaping his schemes." He spoke with such dispassion that Harry nearly missed the significance of what followed. "Had you refused, Draco would not have needed longer than the day to set his affairs in order. As difficult as it was, the time was better spent ensuring that you are comfortable with your decision. The bond would be weak otherwise."

"Wouldn't that be a good thing? I mean, for Malfoy?" Harry knew from the research he had done that a tighter bond would give him access to more of Malfoy's magic, but he didn't think Snape would consider that a fair trade for Malfoy's relative loss of autonomy. Harry certainly didn't.

"The tighter the ensuing bond, the more difficult it will be for the Dark Lord to enter your mind through your bonded's." Harry's eyes widened, and he could tell that Snape understood what he couldn't find the words to say.

"Indeed."

"But Malfoy doesn't have a curse scar, how – "

"Bound to you, it wouldn't be necessary. Unless your bond is_ extraordinarily_ weak, it will form a connection that will be sufficient for him to gain access. He has been frustrated by his inability to reach you of late. Once he discovers how his scheme was thwarted, he will redouble his attempts. Draco's desperation to escape the Dark Lord will ensure the bond is stronger than any of us would like, and I doubt very much that it will lessen before the bonding takes place.

"Since a precise calculation of what must be done to attain a particular strength or form of bond is not possible, the most logical course is to do all you can to fortify it. If the two of you are forced to go through with this preposterous exercise, you will do so in a manner that will obtain the maximum benefit for you and for Draco at the least risk. My apologies if that offends your Gryffindor Code of Behaviour." Part of Harry was relieved at the return of his snarky commentary, and part of Harry was appalled at the suggestion that they work to strengthen the bond. A third part was now nervous about objecting.

"But – " _Gryffindor, after all_.

"Your research was rather incomplete – "

Harry started to protest, again. He'd read every bloody text in the library on the subject and had the devil's own time trying to keep Hermione from getting suspicious about the amount of studying he appeared to be doing while he did.

"– due in no small part, I'm certain, to inadequacies of the Hogwarts library which is a natural consequence of an imbalance created by a bias against certain forms of magic."

Harry nearly snorted as he imagined Hermione's reaction to that statement.

"Blood magic is often categorized as Dark, owing to the similarities in the use of emotion and intent to strengthen or guide the magic within the spell. The former has not been banned in its entirely by the Ministry only because the vast majority of those spells, _Fidelitās Dominō_ included, fail if the participants are not willing. The more committed the participants are, the more powerful the results." He paused suddenly, pinning Harry with his eyes. "Both the participants. It can not be entirely one-sided. You have ways in which you benefit from the situation, and you would do well to accept that." He was still staring at Harry intently. "Doubt will help neither you nor Draco. Neither will guilt."

When Harry looked down, breaking free of his gaze, Snape continued. "You will not be defeated by this scheme, but if you allow it to distract you, the Dark Lord will win."

Harry considered that, but he was too discomfited by Snape's steady observation of him to think clearly. He was relieved when the professor finally returned to his notes, closing the topic, at least temporarily.

Standing there, waiting for the next difficult topic to be broached, he remembered that he had one of his own. Remus had said he would need to talk to Malfoy, and Harry knew that also applied to the man who would become his father.

"I'm sorry, sir. I– My behaviour was– deplorable." _One of Snape's favourite accusations but sometimes he does have the right of it_, Harry admitted reluctantly. "I should have made sure that you – and Malfoy – knew what my decision was as soon as I made it." _Especially knowing Dumbledore's history of not sharing information promptly_. He debated the wisdom of mentioning the conversation after CATS:DA but decided it was necessary to acknowledge that he was aware of the significance of the gesture. "You shouldn't have had to ask; I should have made sure you knew." He kept his Occlumency barriers down and looked directly at his professor, willing to make eye contact if the older man looked up. He wanted to make sure that Snape knew he was not apologizing just to avoid a lecture – though if he could manage that he'd count himself very fortunate (more so than he deserved) – but because he knew he was in the wrong. "I also intend to apologise to Malfoy."

Harry may have been willing to relinquish his adult status, but he was still accountable for his actions, and if he were going to be making permanent, life-altering decisions, he should do them properly and take responsibility for them. Which, he realized ruefully, was a theme common to many of the lectures he'd received from the man currently looking at him with such a closed and stony expression that Harry braced himself for a blasting lecture.

Before the older man had done more than take one deep breath, however, he stopped, closed his eyes, and exhaled slowly, nostrils flaring. He was probably Occluding, but Harry was uncertain if that was positive or not. After several seconds, he opened his eyes and stared at Harry for a long moment then nodded once, sharply.

"Have you read _Overview of Oaths and Oath-breaking_,_ Light Spells With Dark Consequences_, and _Basics of Bonding_?" he asked, in a manner that was professional and almost reasonable.

Relieved that his apology had been accepted, Harry did his best to answer in a similar fashion. "The first two, yes, as well as the introduction and the fifth volume of _Basics of Bonding_."

"Your thoughts?"

"_Overview_ is useless, _Light Spells With Dark Consequences_ is very detailed but much too flowery to make for comfortable reading, and the facts are corroborated in Azalea Thimble's_ History of Diplomacy in the Wizarding World_ and _Bloodsworn_._ Basics of Bonding_ was very helpful."

"Where did you find a copy of _Bloodsworn_?" his professor asked in disbelief.

"Remus found it in the library at Grimmauld Place and gave it to me yesterday." After explaining Malfoy's predicament, he and Remus had discussed the research he'd done, then searched quickly through the texts in the library. They'd found several that Remus remembered from last summer's inventory which would be useful. Harry'd taken two of them back to Hogwarts with him, with a reminder from Remus that he would need to keep them well hidden. The first, Harry had wished he could borrow from the Restricted Section; Harry strongly suspected the other, _Bloodsworn_, was one of the books Snape had been referring to earlier when he was belittling the school library. "I haven't had a chance to read it thoroughly, it but looked like it would be really useful."

Snape snorted. "Apparently there is at least one positive aspect to that hellhole."

"Yeah. About that..." Harry shifted uncomfortably.

"Yes?" Snape prompted.

"I'm planning to ask Malfoy to stay there for Christmas."

Harry had a feeling that the uncomfortable twist of lips he witnessed was mirrored on his own face.

"– And I think he – I was –" He took a deep breath and tried again. "Would you join us, sir?" This time, the honorific emerged naturally.

Snape pinched his nose and exhaled slowly. "This was not what I expected for the holidays," he breathed, almost inaudibly. "Yes, Potter," he replied finally, "I accept your invitation." He paused, then added, "Thank you."

Stunned, Harry replied automatically. "You're welcome." He tried to think of something – anything – he could possibly say after that, and the silence stretched awkwardly.

It was finally broken by Snape himself, who began interrogating Harry with rapid-fire questions, establishing the thoroughness of his research, his comprehension of it, and his familiarity with the rituals until Snape was satisfied that he had thought it entirely through.

Harry thought he'd come out sounding not _completely_ unprepared, partly because of the parallels between this interrogation and the one Remus had given him yesterday morning. The styles were very different to be sure, but the thoroughness and intentions were the same. It was only at that moment that he understood precisely how many more hours of Snape would be included in bonding with Malfoy. He was careful to keep any trace of amusement hidden when he realized that after fifteen years without parents, he was going to have two fathers, or near enough.

Remus arrived before the question and answer session was complete, and he joined their discussion. Remus and Snape were distant but carefully polite, as they had been when Remus had been the DADA professor. It felt familiar to Harry: it was not a combination that he'd worked with often when training with the Order, but it had happened, and he was able to forget his discomfort in that familiarity. It was not until just before dinner that things got a little surreal.

The knock on the door was jarring, and Harry's uneasiness returned as soon as he realized who was probably on the other side. Snape released the wards and opened the door to reveal that the new arrival was indeed Draco Malfoy. They exchanged greetings that Harry couldn't hear, then the elder Slytherin reset the wards while the younger nervously moved further into the room. He greeted Harry with a careful nod, who returned it with one that was equally measured. He nodded at Remus, too, just as stiffly as he had to Harry, but he coupled it with a careful, "Mr. Lupin."

"Mr. Malfoy," Remus replied evenly before looking curiously around the warded room and turning back to Malfoy with hints of both challenge and humour in his expression. It was obvious, suddenly, that Remus had been a Marauder, and Harry shared a nervous look with his Potions professor.

Malfoy flushed, and Harry stared. He'd never seen the other boy flustered before – angry, jubilant, or disdainful, yes, but never flustered. He hadn't entirely gotten over his surprise when the blond relaxed slightly. It was more an easing of his expression than an actual smile, but it was friendlier nonetheless. "Hi."

It was Snape's turn to be discomfitted, but the entirety of his reaction was a slow turn and an even slower raising of an eyebrow. Somewhat inappropriately at that moment, Harry decided he _really_ wanted to learn how to do that. _And not just because of the way it makes Malfoy squirm. What are the chances that another three years of constant exposure will get him to loosen up enough to teach me that?_

His attention was returned to the conversation abruptly as he heard Malfoy explain about his visits to Remus's office during his tenure as DADA professor. _My turn again_, he thought inanely. _And I don't think I hid it well, either_. Fortunately, Malfoy was the only one who could have noticed; the others were still staring at the blond, one with an expression of disbelief, the other pride.

"Professor Lupin had all sorts of helpful advice, even in subjects that weren't Defence," Malfoy finished.

"No doubt," was Snape's verbal response, which was coupled with a pointed look at his colleague. Remus smiled a bit too blandly and directed his next words to the younger Slytherin. "There's no need to be so formal. You may call me 'Remus' if you like." Harry's eyes flew to Snape – he _really_ didn't think he was ready for that – and found his professor looking back at him with equal discomfort. Acknowledging that, they found their amusement mirrored as well.

"Thank you, R-Remus." Malfoy stumbled slightly when saying the name, but Remus just smiled in a way that shared the humour rather than mocking it.

"Or Moony, if you'd prefer." There was a low growl from Snape – there was no other word to describe the sound he made – and Remus's smile faltered, briefly. "I'm open to suggestions." Malfoy grinned, and Harry found himself returning the smile.

Six hours later, he was less amused.

When Ron, Hermione, and he were attempting to solve a Voldemort-level puzzle – when they had sufficient time to plan – the three of them tossed around theories, Hermione coordinated the research, and they more or less mutually decided on a course of action. That, or Hermione would present them with one that was reasonably complete.

Harry was becoming increasingly certain that he preferred either of those methods.

His first problem with the current situation was that, not having been part of the search for alternatives, he was taking a _lot_ on faith. Not that he didn't trust the others, but there were still niggling doubts. Hermione's plans usually worked out better for him that Dumbledore's.

In addition – and at this _exact_ moment, more importantly – being presented with a nearly complete, functional plan meant that he didn't have to suffer through a debate about the minute details of the ritual. The stuff he understood, like the symbolism of what Malfoy would be wearing, he didn't want to discuss for five minutes, let alone five hours, though it was better than the stuff that he didn't understand, and the latter was, overwhelmingly, the majority of the conversation. When Harry was brainstorming with Ron and Hermione, he and Ron had a chance at keeping her from long, theoretical tangents and explanations. Here, he was trapped with not one but _three_ detail-oriented people, and there was no one to take his side when he suggested they move on.

The one time he'd asked how a matter of minutes could really be that important, Malfoy had responded, "It's advanced Arithmancy, Potter. I know you've never studied it. Do you really want me to take the time for an explanation thorough enough that you'll understand it?" His tone was less biting than his words themselves suggested, but it carried enough frustration that Harry, given a choice between "Because we said so" and another three hours of theory and diagrams interspersed with derisive remarks from Snape about his course selections in third year, responded the only way he could: "So, eleven past seven. Then what?"

They worked through dinner, which was highly disconcerting in and of itself as the house-elves delivered it directly to Snape's office – and trying to eat with the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls was creepy – but they had many things to arrange and not a great deal of time. Despite the assurances he had been given earlier, Harry still felt twinges of guilt about that, and it warred with feelings of being trapped, especially after Malfoy pulled out a stack of parchment he'd filled with Arithmancy calculations.

By the end of the evening, however, they had drafted a reply to Lucius's letter which blamed Malfoy's fluctuating magic levels on a mild case of Cerulean Fever exacerbating the changes caused by the _Fidelitās Dominō_. Harry was astounded by the time that alone had taken – in Slytherin, apparently, every word had about eight subtly different meanings, and selecting the correct variant was a matter of life and death.

They'd also established the dates, times, and most of the other essential details of each of the remaining aspects of the ritual, which was not a small task either. _Fidelitās Dominō _was comprised of four separate castings, taking place over the course of a minimum of one lunar cycle. It was possible, of course, to draw it out over several months or even years, but there wasn't much point, since Malfoy would _have_ to be bound if he were found suitable – and regardless of what Snape said, Harry was still holding out hope that he wouldn't be – and the longer they waited, the greater the chance that something could go wrong. Once the _dominus_ was chosen and the bond begun between the two, it was impossible to break, at least overtly, unless one of the participants were dead. It was likely, of course, that Voldemort would increase his efforts to kill Harry, but _that_ was nothing new, and every precaution would be taken to ensure their safety.

Harry had hoped that would mean they could stay at Hogwarts for the holidays rather than at Grimmauld Place, but it was decided that the added protection of the castle would be minimal and not sufficient to counter the potential weakening of the bond.

Each of the castings was anchored to a phase of the moon within the cycle, which, as far as Harry could tell, meant "taking place the exact same number of hours and minutes before or after the exact minute of the moon phase." It was more complicated than that – Malfoy's pages of Arithmancy had been only the beginning of their calculations – but that was the part Harry understood.

Different aspects of the ritual and the resulting bond were theoretically made stronger or weaker depending on whether they occurred earlier or later than their associated places in the lunar cycle, but the sources of information they could access varied in their claims and explanations. As a result, much of their planning was based on guesswork, something no one was happy about.

What _had_ worked in their favour was the scheduling of the changing phases of the moon: each of the three taking place before the students left for the holidays fell on the weekend, when schedules were more flexible. It meant that Snape, Harry, and particularly Malfoy wouldn't have to make up excuses to leave class, say, at times when Voldemort would be watching for deviations from the norm.

Voldemort had anchored the _Prīncipium_, the first part of the ritual, on the new moon, which even Harry knew was the most auspicious time for new beginnings, and the four of them decided that the three remaining castings and the adoption ceremony would each be anchored on a separate phase of the upcoming month, ending with the last of the four, the _Significātiō_, on the following new moon. It was a schedule, they hoped, that would make the adjustment to the bond as easy as possible for Malfoy.

Something Voldemort had disregarded entirely.

He had hinted that the ritual would be complete on the new year, but if he intended to perform the ritual with as safe a transition as possible for Malfoy, Narcissa should have requested that her son be permitted to leave the school earlier than the end of term. She hadn't.

The moon would be at three quarters full the morning before the Express left for London to return the students home for the holidays. Waiting until then would permit one casting to be performed that evening, leaving the two others to be anchored on the new moon.

Dumbledore had said that "the participants were expected to use the time before the fourth casting to adjust to the bond": anchoring the third and fourth castings to the same phase of the moon left _very_ little time for Malfoy to acclimatize to a very difficult situation.

To say that Malfoy preferred the schedule they had come up with was an understatement.

The adoption ceremony was not specifically part of the _Fidelitās Dominō_ and could be performed at any time, but it was very likely that by anchoring it as though it were, acknowledging that it was being driven by _Fidelitās Dominō_, both spells would be strengthened. This was partly because both were blood magic, partly because intentions were honourable – if forced – and in the case of _Fidelitās Dominō_, partly because the adoption would equalize the status of the bonded couple. There was literature that suggested – _without conclusive evidence_, Snape would sneer, inciting yet another round of debate for Harry to tune out – that bonding between equals was more powerful.

The principal reason for the decision to include the adoption, however, was that none of the _Fidelitās Dominō_ castings could be performed that close to the full moon by a werewolf. The closer Remus was to the full, the more dominant the wolf: as a result, Remus the wizard didn't have the magical strength necessary to participate in the _Fidelitās Dominō,_ and the werewolf didn't have the dexterity or the comprehension. There was also the fear that the werewolf's instincts would dull the wizard's, which might throw off the bonding ritual, regardless.

Because the adoption spell focussed almost entirely on emotion – variants were used when Squibs and Muggles needed to be recognized by property wards, after all – it was agreed that there should be too little magic required to call the wolf forth, even on the day of the full. It helped, too, that the full moon would occur the night after Malfoy's seventeenth birthday. It wouldn't be possible for Malfoy to be adopted before then, at least not without overt Ministry involvement, but leaving it too late could cause disruptions in the bonding process.

Remus also had reservations about the scheduling, but since he couldn't be more specific than "something's off," nor could he find a flaw in the reasoning, he was overruled. Harry had abstained.

It was something he'd done a lot of over the course of the afternoon, earning each time a sympathetic look from Remus and a disapproving one from Snape. By necessity, he paid more attention when they began discussing the schedule.

To prevent the feelings of alienation and to counter any lingering doubt triggered by Voldemort's treatment, Harry and Malfoy would need to find ways to spend time together, and they'd need to do it without prompting suspicion. Harry had been correct in his assumption that they'd been paired in Potions for exactly that reason and was unsurprised when Malfoy confirmed that he, too, had chosen Eustacia Sigismund for his N.E.W.T. Charms project. Something about that amused Snape, but Harry thought it was quite practical of them to have a second project, if only because it diverted suspicion from Snape himself. Flitwick had warned the seventh-year classes that the resources for several of the potential topics were sparse and suggested that they learn who else was researching their topics and share the available material. While they would not officially know their assignments until early next week, it was unlikely that anyone else had requested the same obscure diplomat when there were so many other, more exciting choices on the list.

When none of the others mentioned a next topic of discussion, Harry was about to ask for a few minutes alone with the younger Slytherin before they returned to their dorms, but Malfoy spoke first.

"Are we finished for the evening, then?"

Harry was disappointed – he needed to apologize, and he'd prefer to do it alone. They would need to speak alone eventually, and it was best done before the ritual, if only to make sure they could manage it without harming one another.

"I have rounds tonight," he explained cautiously. Harry raised his head to find the blond looking nervously from Harry to Snape and back again. Harry would have been anxious, too: Snape's expression registered a level of disapproval that was usually reserved for Gryffindors. He amended "would have been" to _was anxious_, when he registered the flick of the eye that Snape directed at him. _Is there some Slytherin code that they have to show better endurance that Gryffindors?_

Remus turned to him curiously, and, faced with the rather disconcerting experience of all three of them staring at him, he shrugged to indicate that he had nothing else to add.

Leaving together would draw far too much attention, so they staggered their departures. Malfoy left first, as he was nearly late. Remus was the only one to wish him goodnight; Harry was rather more concerned with the fact that Snape hadn't stopped staring at him.

"What were you going to say?"

Harry shrugged again and tried to brush it off as not important, but Snape persisted, without saying a word, and Harry explained that he'd hoped to speak with Draco and his reasoning for doing it alone.

He finished, and Snape continued to watch him silently with the same measured look. Remus, after a quick look at the Slytherin that went unacknowledged, suggested that waiting would be a better choice: as exhausted as they were, neither Harry nor Draco was capable of diplomacy or tact, and that would be essential if they didn't want to risk damage to the fledgling bond.

Harry agreed, still disappointed, and Snape finally spoke. "I will send a message to Draco, directing him to meet you tomorrow."

"What if Malfoy has plans?"

"I am certain he will be free during the Quidditch match." He forestalled Harry's protest with a raised finger. "You may tell your friends that I've given you a detention, and you will join them later. Continue to argue, and I will in truth." Harry closed his mouth and nodded, and Remus gave him another sympathetic look. He was getting tired of those.

"He'll meet you under the Slytherin stands when the game starts."

Harry nodded again, unwilling to risk speaking and saying something he shouldn't.

"Names, as you are well aware, have both power and significance." Harry held back a sigh. He really didn't feel up to a lecture, particularly not one that he'd heard many times before and on an issue he couldn't remember infracting.

"You would do well to begin calling him Draco." Harry waited, curious, but Snape didn't say anything further on the subject. He turned instead to Remus, and they awkwardly made small talk about Order business, while Harry waited impatiently for his turn to leave. When Harry looked up to say goodnight, however, a pointed look from Snape had him assuring Remus that he had a question for the professor and that he should go ahead. There was no doubt that Remus was fully aware of why Harry had offered, but he left, promising that he would be back the next morning.

When the door closed behind Remus, Harry turned to Snape warily, but the professor was clearing his own desk and paying no attention to Harry at all. Thoroughly confused, Harry sat in silence until enough time had passed that he could leave, then, grabbing his bag, he stood and headed for the door.

"Mr. Potter." He had his hand on the doorknob, but with a great deal of effort, Harry managed to refrain from hitting his head against the door in frustration. "Yes, sir?" he asked, turning slightly.

"You are aware that dreams are the vehicle by which the subconscious forces one to confront fears. If misuse of power is what you fear most about agreeing to bond, Harry, Draco did well to choose you."

* * *

AN:_ Amusingly, the times of the changing moon phases in Scotland in December 1997 actually did fall on the weekends – I looked it up._


	9. Difficult Conversations

_With warmest birthday wishes to Beta __ Phoenix __and belated ones to Severus Snape, here is the next chapter!_

_Don't get too excited about the prompt update – most of this was written in the summer, and it's unbeta'd, since I didn't think it was fair to ask __ Phoenix Writing __ to rush just so I could post on her birthday._

_All rights to the world of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling and a number of very large corporations, none of which is me, and I do not intend to make any money whatsoever from this endeavour._

_Particular thanks must be given to my lovely Betas Tithenai and, particularly,__ Phoenix Writing __ who have helped make this a much better story in both style and content. Any mistakes which remain are, indubitably, my own._

_Warnings for this chapter: slight schmaltz, het, and coarse language_

_Additional notes are available before the prologue._

_Constructive criticism is always very much appreciated._

Originally posted 10 Jan. '08; Beta'd version posted 22 Jan. '08  


* * *

**Difficult Conversations**

It began innocuously enough.

A simple "Are you ok, Harry?" in the Great Hall, to which he responded with a shrug. That would have been the end of it if Ron had joined them. Because the redhead had chosen to miss breakfast in favour of a lie in, however, she followed it with an "Is there anything you want to talk about?" He brushed that off as well, claiming that he was simply tired. It was a successful diversion, insofar as she switched to questioning him about his sleeping patterns, nightmares, and "nightmares," differentiating between dreams and visions with a heavy emphasis when referring to the latter and a pointed look around the filling Hall. He tolerated the interrogation for a while, but eventually he snapped at her.

Surprised, she apologized for pushing, though Harry did detect an undertone of "for your own good," and they sat in silence for a while.

"Malfoy was better in Healing, yesterday afternoon," she offered tentatively after a few moments.

Confused and wary, Harry looked up to find her watching him intently.

"Whatever was afflicting him this week, he seems to have recovered from it. His magic was back to normal in Healing. He managed the Bone-Setting spell really well." Hermione was almost able to hide her disappointment when she added, "Fastest she'd seen in years, Madam Pomfrey said."

Relieved that Hermione's reference to Malfoy was motivated by frustration that she'd been trumped academically rather than any knowledge of what Harry was doing, he took pains to assure her that one successful spell did not jeopardize her standing as the head of their year. He was positive she hadn't paid the slightest attention when she nodded absently and continued, "He's very talented, magically." This time, her words were simply a statement of fact, without any rancour at all, but the look didn't waver.

He shrugged noncommittally, hoping she'd drop the subject. He looked away in time to see Cadwallader, the Hufflepuff Chaser, enter the Great Hall with Colin Creevey. They both sat at the Hufflepuff table, though Colin didn't reach for breakfast, so Harry assumed he wouldn't be staying long.

Their relationship, now nearing its first anniversary, had surprised everyone at Hogwarts. Colin was short, slight, and about as unathletic as someone could be, the complete opposite of the big, burly Chaser. It was doubtful if they'd ever have spoken to each other if it hadn't been for the DA, but the Hufflepuff had joined last winter. The entire group had been amused watching their romantic relationship evolve. Harry watched Colin chattering excitedly, not only with his boyfriend but with others at the table.

_Hermione is right: the houses shouldn't matter_. There was nothing intrinsically different between the students in Hufflepuff and those in Gryffindor – why were Slytherins different? Because of one student who'd attended fifty years ago? That wasn't fair.

Draco was facing a very difficult situation and doing it with courage and dignity – what if he'd come as close to being Sorted into Gryffindor as Harry had into Slytherin? Would the house still have treated him as the pariah he had been for the first five years at Hogwarts? Harry nearly snorted at the image of Ron and Malfoy as dorm-mates on that first night, until he remembered that the blond's Sorting had been one of the fastest he'd ever seen. Harry wasn't sure the hat had even touched Malfoy's head, so a mis-Sorting wasn't likely.

A loud burst of laughter made him focus once again on the Hufflepuff table, and he sighed enviously. The Badgers were accepting of the Lion in their midst, but when Harry tried to imagine the Slytherins or even his own house being as welcoming of him sitting with Malfoy, he couldn't picture it. He was sure that even being told of their utter lack of choice in their situation would not reconcile their housemates. In all likelihood, Harry realized, he would lose people he considered friends because he'd chosen to participate in the bonding; eventually, he would have to accept that.

Colin got up to move to the Gryffindor table, and Harry turned so that it wouldn't be apparent that he'd been watching the Hufflepuffs. Doing so, he discovered Hermione watching him. Again. Still? She'd been doing that a lot this morning, and it was making him very uncomfortable.

She didn't say anything, though, just gave him an encouraging smile and reached out to squeeze his arm gently. Before Harry had a chance to ask what that meant, Colin had arrived at the Gryffindor table, looking around warily before sitting across from Harry. Colin was looking for Ron, Harry knew, and was relieved to find that he wasn't there – relations between the two were very strained and had been for months.

Shortly before Hallowe'en last year, before Ron and Hermione had admitted how they felt about each other, Ron and Lavender had been assigned as partners on a class project. By the end of it, they had begun dating, much to the discomfort of many in Gryffindor tower, for they were not the most discreet of couples. Colin had taken photos of the two in somewhat compromising positions in very public places, and one rather revealing photo had somehow been included in the _Daily Prophet _as part of an article on student life at Hogwarts. It had spun into Harry's yearly press scandal: half of the wizarding world had claimed to be appalled at the laxity of supervision and control the staff had over the students under Dumbledore's management and had clamoured to have a more conservative administration implemented. That had been enough to give Harry nightmares featuring Umbridge's return for a month straight.

The other half of the population had latched onto the fact that the couple in question were in Harry's year and house, that Ron was, in fact _Harry Potter_'s best friend. The amount of mail the two of them had received on the subject had been astounding, and little had been positive. Those who_ had_ thought they were being supportive simply made things worse with their suggestions of ways in which Ron could debauch the Boy Who Lived further. The vast majority, however, had been haranguing and vitriolic, and no letter had been more so than the one sent by Ron's own mother.

Molly Weasley had been horrified, and her subsequent Howler had become legendary. It had laid out, in great detail, the many ways in which she felt Ron's behaviour had been inappropriate, with great emphasis on Ron's lack of propriety and lack of respect for his partner. Lavender, on the other hand, had been very carefully not mentioned, and the omission was all the more damning. The humiliation proved to be too much for her, and she broke it off with Ron shortly thereafter. Ron, however illogically, blamed Colin. After Christmas, once Ron and Hermione were officially a couple, he'd learned quickly that mentioning that particular grudge was guaranteed to vex Hermione, and his anger might have lessened, if Colin hadn't begun his relationship with Cadwallader at about that time. Colin was dating the enemy. It meant that Colin was very ill at ease when Ron was around.

Since he wasn't, Colin sat across from Harry and Hermione, and the remainder of breakfast was filled with his chatter.

When they were finished, Harry grabbed some fruit and a hastily thrown together sandwich to bring up to Ron, and the three of them made their way back to the tower together. Once there, Colin scampered up to the dorms – since the fourth floor, Hermione had been alternating between detailing for him the differences between preparing for O.W.L.s and preparing for N.E.W.T.s and grilling him on how traumatic he found revealing his sexual orientation to his family and friends to be, so Harry didn't blame him for making a quick escape. Ron was sitting on one of the armchairs near the fireplace, and they made their way over to him.

"I don't know how you do it," Ron shuddered, jerking his head toward the stairs.

"Ron!" She looked at Harry, which he didn't think was fair, since he hadn't said anything and had, in fact, talked with Colin during breakfast and the walk back to the tower.

"I don't care that he's queer, Hermione. It's _Colin_."

The disdain was dripping from the word as though it were an obscenity. Harry didn't know how long it would be before Ron forgave him, but it would be a while yet. That didn't bode well for his reaction to Malfoy. _Draco_. He had to start remembering to think of him as Draco.

Harry handed Ron his makeshift breakfast, which distracted him, and Hermione, thankfully, decided not to pursue the matter.

By mid-morning, most of the Gryffindors were gathered in the common room, torn between hoping the unpleasant weather would continue – by the end of the season, the Cup standings were not likely to be so far apart that they could not benefit from a close match with a low total score – and wishing the sky would clear, as they would be sitting in the stands for the match.

Most of the upper years had neglected their homework because of the Hogsmeade visit the previous weekend and were taking the opportunity to work on the assignments due at the end of term. Ron was looking for someone to help him pass the time with a game of chess or even Exploding Snap and was frustrated to find everyone otherwise occupied, Harry and Hermione among them. Harry was researching his ingredients for the _Animāre_ potion, while Hermione was looking up each of the Significant Magical Figures on the list of potential topics for the Charms essay, in case she needed to select an alternate. Harry was positive that no one else in the class would have chosen Flamel, who had lived five times longer than the average wizard and accomplished enough for ten, but she was unconvinced.

Ron flopped onto the couch next to his girlfriend, crumpling the edges of her papers as he did, which earned him an exasperated look and a swat to the thigh, so he shifted enough that she could rescue her work. When he realized what she was doing, he rolled his eyes – behind her back, of course – before asking Harry what he was working on.

"Potions," Harry replied, the same answer he'd given each of the three times Ron had asked that question since they'd begun their homework.

"Still?" he asked incredulously. "How much work can Snape have assigned? Most of it's practical work, and that needs to be done in the lab!"

"Hate to say it, but I think Ron's right, Hermione," Seamus inserted as he approached. "I don't see how you can be learning anything when you're stuck working with the Slytherins – I know! 'Not Evil.'– but it can't be conducive to the learning process. Far too much bickering, I'd think."

Ron looked puzzled, so Seamus explained. "Dean's been complaining about it all week. Told me Snape's got 'em paired up for a project through the end of term – each Gryff with a Slyth." He shrugged. "Can't be much fun is all I'm saying. Can I borrow your copy of _Achievements in Charming_, Hermione? It'll save me from having to go up to the dorm." She handed it to him with an exasperated look that had nothing to do with begrudging him the loan of the book and everything to do with his volunteering information they would have preferred to keep from Ron.

"Thanks, Gorgeous," he called out with an unrepentant wink as he returned to his section of the floor, which was delineated by piles of papers and books.

"Who'd you get stuck with?" Ron asked, looking at them in turn.

"I_ was partnered_," Hermione very obviously stressed the verb, "with Pansy."

Harry decided to avoid the verb altogether. "Malfoy."

Ron wrinkled his nose, and Harry could tell that it was only due to great self-control that he refrained from gagging. It was a restrained reaction, for Ron, but Harry suspected that Hermione would not think it was restrained enough, and he was right.

"Everything Slytherin is not evil, Ron," Hermione scolded. Much like her S.P.E.W. crusade during the Triwizard Tournament, Hermione had adopted the Slytherins as her project for the year, with marginally more success.

"I didn't say that. But you're better off not taking the class if you ask me. The twins found an intensive course that took them though the N.E.W.T.-level Potions in less than a month. Got them though their examination, and they've managed alright."

"Ron! Knowing the theory is a very important part of N.E.W.T. Potions! Without understanding, a brewer is unable to adapt or correct a brew, and it's altogether too easy to accidentally poison someone. And, incidentally, the twins didn't manage N.E.W.T. Potions in less than a month; they had to pass a theoretical examination before they were allowed to step into the lab and brew. Your decision not to continue with Potions was fine because it was your decision, but it's equally okay if Harry likes it. Tastes change! He's going to like things – people, even – that you and I don't, and friends don't berate each other or force each other to choose."

Ron stared at her as though she were some sort of strange specimen Hagrid had introduced in Care of Magical Creatures.

"Right, then," he replied carefully and changed the topic.

Fortunately, he chose to speculate about the upcoming match in a sufficiently loud voice that it caught the attention of a number of their housemates, and a lively discussion ensued. It allowed Harry to withdraw from the conversation and into his own thoughts.

_What on earth did Hermione mean by that?_ Harry realized he'd been spending far too much time with Slytherins: he was looking for multiple meanings in everything – even his friends' words. It was probably nothing more than Ron doing something that was guaranteed to set Hermione off, and Hermione taking him to task for it. He realized that Ron and Hermione had been sniping a lot lately, even for them, and he wondered if the pressure they were feeling from his family was too much.

She'd had another letter from Mrs. Weasley today, which she'd claimed had been more details about her bridesmaid duties in Bill and Fleur's wedding. Had there been more comments about her and Ron included as well? The constant teasing could be forcing them to baulk in the face of expectation. If that were the case, he hoped the holidays at the Burrow wouldn't be the end of the relationship. At that thought, Harry froze. Hermione had been making comments about Malfoy all morning and watching closely for Harry's reaction to them. What if she had been looking for a replacement for Ron, and was considering a Slytherin? She'd be just as curious as Harry was about how her friends would accept a Slytherin in their midst.

If he was correct, he hoped it wasn't Mal-_Draco_ she was interested in. With the amount of time he and Harry would have to spend together, she'd have ample opportunity to discover things that Harry _really_ didn't want her to find out just yet.

He tried to think of any other possible candidates and had nearly settled on Theo Nott, who was in his CATS: DA class and not a complete prat, when he realized that it was _far_ more likely that she'd caught something Harry had done or said, and she was trying to make sense of it. If her working hypothesis had already linked him to the Slytherins, Draco particularly, he was in trouble. He had no idea what she knew or suspected or what to say to throw her off, and he was terrified that he'd let something slip. Remus had once called her the "brightest witch of her age", and she'd only gotten smarter in the years since. Once she suspected something, there was no way to derail her quest for information.

Suddenly feeling trapped, Harry decided to head over to the pitch and see if Malfoy had also arrived early. If he had, they might be able to get their conversation out of the way before the match started. Harry couldn't tell his friends that, of course, so he announced that he needed to go to the library for an additional text. Perhaps, too, if he weren't there encouraging her to study, Ron and Hermione could enjoy some time alone as a couple.

Ron stared at him incredulously. "But, Harry! What about the Match?"

"I'll ... catch you up." If he didn't make it, he could always use the "Snape assigned a detention" excuse.

"What?!"

As he returned Hermione's text to her, Seamus snorted. "Why does it matter? There'll be no Seeker of consequence on the pitch today."

Ron bristled.

"Ron–" Not wanting to hear Hermione defend Malfoy yet again, particularly not in a discussion of the only subject about which she remained happily ignorant, Harry interrupted, "He's right, Ron. I mean, there's always an element of chance, but in terms of skill, Malfoy's the only real competition."

Ron didn't care for that, but since he himself wasn't a Seeker, and historical statistics supported Harry and Seamus, there wasn't much he could say to counter that, so he conceded the argument, quickly if not exactly gracefully.

Harry stayed long enough to assure himself that Ron hadn't been offended, then retreated to the dorm room, moving as quickly as he could without suspicion. Unfortunately, once there, he found the room occupied. Dean and Ginny – Gryffindor's most notorious on-again, off-again couple – were on-again and looking for privacy themselves. As awkward as he felt intruding on them, he couldn't bear the thought of immediately returning downstairs.

He apologized for interrupting, and with his back to the couple, rummaged in his trunk as long as he dared. When he couldn't stall any longer, he grabbed his Invisibility Cloak and his Omnioculars and stuffed them in his knapsack.

"Did you know that Professor Lupin is here? Or was, anyway."

He looked up and was relieved to see that they were now sitting on Dean's bed, with hair and clothing returned to some semblance of order. "I knew he would be here today, but I haven't seen him."

"He was on the pitch not long ago, if you want to try and catch him."

"I'll do that." He checked to make sure he had everything and stood. "Thanks, Ginny."

Before he'd even left the landing, Ginny was hailing him again. "Hold up, Harry. I'll walk down with you. I need to stop by the library."

As they were passing through the common room, Hermione called his name, and he turned, nervously. "While you're at the library, could you ask Madam Pince if this," she handed him a slip of parchment, "has been returned yet? And if it has, take it out for me? Please? I'd go, but I'm already over my limit, so I really need to finish my Charms research and return those books."

Aware of Ginny next to him watching expectantly, Harry took the parchment. "Sure, Hermione."

He knew better than to think that would be the end of it, but he waited in vain for Ginny to call him on his duplicity: she spoke only about the upcoming match. Her predictions were interesting and well founded, as were her thoughts on how the match's outcome would affect their own strategies, and Harry knew she'd be an excellent captain next year.

More than half of the wizarding world believed that Ginny and Dean would eventually break it off for good, and Harry and Ginny would finally become a couple, marry, and live happily ever after. In reality, though, his relationship with Ginny had evolved into something that was much closer to that of siblings, particularly after Ron and Hermione started dating. The three were still best friends, but the couple needed time alone, and Harry'd begun spending more time with Ginny almost by default. He could talk to her – not only did she understand his love of Quidditch, his relationship with Ron and Hermione, and what the three of them had been through together, she'd survived her own encounters with Voldemort and his Death Eaters. He liked to think they'd have been friends even without the convenience of their separate relationships with Ron.

Like Hermione, Ginny wasn't close to the girls in her dorm, though the tension between the younger girls was primarily the result of never having fully overcome the strain of their first year, rather than the lack of commonality between the Gryffindor girls in Harry's year. Regardless, it meant that, more often than not, Ginny and Hermione turned to each other when they needed female companionship. Since he and Ron were also best mates, double-dating would have been the natural progression, if he and Ginny had any interest in each other whatsoever. Fortunately, Dean, at least, knew that wasn't going to happen.

As they reached the fourth floor, Harry glanced regretfully at the staircase that led to the front entrance and was thus unprepared when Ginny yanked his arm, pulling him into a nearby alcove. She leaned against the wall, arms crossed over her chest, and Harry was struck by the similarity between her and Hermione. He waited, uncomfortably, for the coming lecture.

"I'll take that," she said, plucking the parchment from his fingers, "since you're clearly not interested in being anywhere near the library."

Harry tried to claim he realized he'd be late for his detention with Snape, but she cut him off with a snort and an impatient hand.

"Hermione is right, something's wrong." Harry met her eyes evenly and hoped his nervousness didn't show. "But I'm the girl with six older brothers. Sometimes seven." She said pointedly. Harry felt the ghost of a smile cross his face at the reminder that he had not yet been forgiven for helping Ron intimidate a potential boyfriend or two. He started to reply, but she shook her head and held her hand up again, so he waited silently.

"Is it war-related?"

"Yes."

"Does Remus know?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll leave it for now."

Relieved, Harry let out the breath he'd been holding. "Thank you."

"But you'll owe me." Ginny was not someone to whom you wanted to be indebted, but Harry agreed wholeheartedly. "Several." He winced, but nodded reluctantly.

* * *

He was more nervous than he'd ever been at a Quidditch match, even his first as Seeker, and he wasn't even playing.

As Gryffindor captain, he was supposed to be watching the teams, analyzing plays, and preparing for the next Gryffindor match, but instead of watching the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff teams take to the air, Harry was sitting under the bleachers staring at the grass with nervous dread. Fortunately, Remus had agreed to record the match with Harry's Omnioculars.

Though Harry had used his Invisibility Cloak to get under the Slytherin stands, Remus and Snape had warded the area earlier for sight and sound, so once there he could safely take it off.

"Potter."

Harry looked up, somehow unsurprised that Malfoy–Draco–had arrived precisely on time.

"Malfoy. Have a seat."

The Slytherin grimaced slightly but did sit on the grass not far away. They stared at each other silently for a few moments, until Harry's gaze dropped to his battered trainers as he tried to figure out how to start.

It was even more uncomfortable than expected, facing the person responsible for their predicament. Harry knew that wasn't fair – it was obviously Voldemort's fault and Lucius Malfoy's – but Mal–Draco had chosen Harry.

"I'm sorry about Potions," he blurted awkwardly, "after, I mean." He didn't know how to explain what had caused him to behave that ways, so he finally added, "It's not you, it's me." Draco accepted his apology with a silent nod, but he didn't smile at all. Harry didn't know if he didn't get the joke – it could be a Muggle thing, after all – if he was too nervous to laugh, or if he just didn't think it was funny.

The bond was supposed to identify suitable candidates, but Harry failed to see how he could possibly qualify. Whether Draco knew it (as in the case of his rude behaviour in Potions) or not (he wasn't going to think about The Dream), Harry'd already failed Draco – multiple times! – and not just Draco. His participation in last year's fight at Azkaban may not have been common knowledge, but his being duped in Fifth year was – at least in Malfoy's circles. _Fidelitās Dominō_ was supposed to intuit suitability. The literature had suggested that it could somehow read thoughts or emotions. How could he be considered an acceptable candidate?

"Why me?" The question was asked almost before he'd even thought it.

"Please, Potter, you wouldn't eat a pet rabbit. You're not going to drain my magic on a petty whim; if you must, it won't be done frivolously or selfishly. Your membership in the Heroes of the World Club would be revoked."

Harry took a deep breath.

"If this is going to work, we're going to need to lay down some ground rules."

Draco flinched before Harry realized what that sounded like, but he couldn't take it back.

"The first thing is ... we're going to have to be honest with each other – more than either of us is comfortable with, definitely sooner than we'd like." He met the other boy's eyes squarely, hoping he would be able to recognize Harry's sincerity. "I promise to be honest with you, as much as I can." The Slytherin calmed, and Harry knew he was on the right track. "Not all the secrets I'm privy to are mine, but those that are will be yours if you want them. In return–" He paused, trying to phrase his next comment in such a way that it would not set Malfoy off.

"I need you to be equally honest with me. We've spent too much time looking for weaknesses in each other to attack. It'll be too easy to keep doing it, automatically, without realizing how well we've landed each hit." The blond nodded slowly.

Pleased with the lack of argument but even more nervous about what he intended to say next, Harry took a moment to choose his words carefully before he continued. It was all well and good for them to agree that they needed to speak honestly, but actually doing it without blowing up at each other was something entirely different.

It might have made more sense to wait, to learn to deal with each other's constant presence first, but so many aspects of their future relationship would be determined by their interactions during the formation of the bond that Harry did not want to take the risk. If they spoke only of superficial things or _acted_ the parts of amicable strangers, the bond might not give them the chance to change their behaviour afterwards. Besides, if they couldn't overcome their traditional animosity rather than just ignoring it, it would be best to find out now, before they were unequivocally committed.

Harry didn't care, particularly, who spoke first – they'd both have to eventually – but knowing what he did about Slytherin perceptions of fairness and power as well as the similarity between the conversation he'd had with Remus about how best to manage with Draco and the tenets of the _Fidelitās Dominō_ bond, Harry knew that he ought to go first, both as a gesture of goodwill and to help Malfoy feel less powerless. Unfortunately, knowing it needed to be done, even knowing _why_ it needed to be done, didn't make it easier to do.

"I hate all of that. Golden Boy. Hero. The Boy Who Lived." He snorted dismissively. "As if that isn't the lamest title ever." Draco looked taken aback, and Harry nearly laughed. Not because it was funny, exactly, but because it had taken all of three minutes to make the other boy suspect that Harry Potter wasn't who everyone assumed he was.

"I didn't ask for it; I didn't do anything to earn it." The blond was about to speak, but Harry waved off whatever response he might have made. "Nothing that required any sort of skill or training or knowledge. The stuff I did do... People get hurt because of me. Or die. That's not something I'm proud of."

Draco stared at him, steady and silent, for several moments before nodding again, once, startling Harry with the similarity to Snape.

Harry stared back, expectantly. He was willing to go first but Draco would have to take his turn as well. Draco seemed to realize that quickly, but it was several additional moments before he was able to speak.

"I." He stopped, swallowed, and tried again: "I don't like remarks about my mother. This thing," he waved a hand between them, "... last week, her behaviour in public ... that's not her. Normally she's... She's not perfect, but she tries. And she loves me." The last was said quietly, fiercely, as though he might be trying to convince himself.

Harry noticed the glaring lack of any mention of Lucius, and he had his doubts about Narcissa. When he'd seen her in Hogsmeade, her obvious anticipation as she ushered Draco upstairs was far more reminiscent of the fanatical glow he'd noticed when he'd first seen Bellatrix than the elegant woman he'd met at the Quidditch Cup. Regardless of how Draco's mother felt about him before Voldemort's return, she seemed to have decided to prioritize her role as a Death Eater, but Harry refrained from mentioning that. He decided the safest response was Draco's own, and he, too, nodded.

They sat for a moment sharing a silence that was not entirely uncomfortable. Harry was, once again, trying to decide what to say next. He thought about Draco's explanations of why he'd chosen to ask Harry and of his relationship with his parents, and Harry eventually realized what, logically, should follow, to place them on equal footing. He knew he would have to tell Draco eventually – it would certainly come up, especially now that Snape knew almost everything, and he'd told Remus nearly as much. All things considered, he'd rather not have a mass interrogation on the subject, so telling Draco separately was better – but it was just as hard as he'd assumed it would be, trusting _Draco Malfoy_ with things he hadn't even told Ron or Hermione.

"Any opportunity to thwart Voldemort is a good thing, obviously, and it's no secret that your fa–that Lucius is one of his greatest strengths, but the real reason I agreed–" He swallowed, hard. "I don't have the best relationship with the relatives who took me in after my parents died." It looked like the other boy had questions, though he didn't ask them, but he seemed less surprised than Harry would have expected. "We were all happy when I was able to leave for good. I always wished, though, that I'd had someone of my own, some place I belonged. Finding out that I could be adopted was..."_What could possibly compare to that feeling?_ "It was like getting my Hogwarts letter all over again. But it would have been cheating, doing just that, since I didn't know it was possible before." Draco started. _Another wizard who found that strange_. One of the only benefits of Ron, Hermione, and the others finding out about this would be the chance to discuss his lack of knowledge of the wizarding world customs. "Besides, Malfoy, no matter how shitty you've been to me and my friends, you don't deserve that." Harry grinned at the other boy, hoping his teasing would be recognized for what it was, and was pleased when he received a smile, however tentative, in return.

The silence stretched, and the blond took that to mean that it was his turn to continue.

"I'd like– You can call me 'Draco.'" He snorted humourlessly. "I'm not as impressed by my surname, these days." He looked up, noticed Harry's look of disbelief, and smirked with less malice than usual. "If you think you can handle it. I dare you."

Harry's jaw snapped shut – Draco Malfoy making a request of Harry Potter was nearly as shocking as Snape, even given their extraordinary circumstances, and he tried to smile in return. "I think I can probably manage it. I'm 'Harry,' if you can say it without choking."

Draco simply nodded, but Harry thought he relaxed slightly.

Technically it was Harry's turn to offer information, but he needed to know. "What do you want from this?"

"What in the name of Merlin do you think I–" Raw and exasperated, his voice cracked a little when he cut himself off, dropping his head in his hands.

Harry carefully held onto his own temper, trying very hard not to snap back and wondered how on Earth they would manage for the rest of their lives if they couldn't manage to be civil for twenty minutes.

"I know we're headed for war," Draco finally replied, almost calmly, "but I want to know that if my life is in danger it's not likely to be at the hand of my _dominus_. I want to be able to conduct myself with some semblance of dignity. I realize that I'll need your permission to have a career, or have a family, or have any sort of a life, at all, really. But you're likely to consider granting it."

"God, Draco, That's not even– Of course I will. I know that all of your options are horrific. I just want– I need to– Do you _want_ this? Me?" Harry knew he wasn't making much sense, but somehow Draco understood what he was asking because, with the barest hint of a smile, he replied, softly but confidently, the words that Harry realized must have been spoken during the _Prīncipium_:

"I offer myself, child and heir of the House of Malfoy, heir-designate of the House of Black, and my talents to your service. I offer my line, the House of Black, all that we are and all that we have. I make this offer to you, Harry Potter, and yours. Will you accept our tribute and unite our people that we may grow as kindred, in strength and integrity?"

Harry was certain that there was an equally long and elaborate answer that tradition required, but he'd never seen the ceremony written. Deciding that simplicity was best, he simply answered the question that was asked. "I will."

They stared at each other, sharing the solemnity of the moment, and Harry knew that Draco, like himself, was overwhelmed by the gravity and magnitude of what they were about to do. Eventually the silence was broken by the sound of vigorous applause and wild cheering, and both boys started. Their eyes met again, filled with humour and chagrin this time, and they smiled for a moment – the first ever of amusement shared between them – at the idea that the applause had been for them.

* * *

It wasn't the shortest Quidditch match ever, but it was close. Given the cold, wet day, Ginny didn't think the spectators or the teams playing minded in the slightest. She wrapped her arms around her, hoping to block a bit more of the chill, and felt Dean's arms wrap around her as well, drawing her closer to him. She smiled up at him gratefully, then turned to glare at her brother when he made a production of gagging.

"Don't you have to meet Hermione?"

Knowing that watching the match wasn't one of her favourite pastimes, especially in the chill and damp, Ron and Hermione had agreed that she would study through the match, and they would spend time together afterwards in non-academic pursuits. When they'd reached the bargain, however, they'd both expected that the match would be a much longer one, so it wasn't a surprise when Ron replied with a smirky sort of grin, "I think I have time."

Dean interjected before the siblings could tease each other into a temper, distracting Ron with a comment about the match. It was, normally, a conversation in which Ginny would have happily taken part, but her attention was caught, just then, by Remus, standing near the Slytherin stands, talking to Harry. She wondered how he'd made it past her to the far end of the pitch: she'd been watching for them during the match, and she thought she'd caught a glimpse of her former professor past the Ravenclaw goalpost, but there'd been no sign of Harry.

Whatever Remus was telling Harry was not good: Harry's expression very quickly darkened into worry. He looked up then and wasn't pleased to catch her watching them. Ron, too, seemed to notice her distraction, but she returned to the conversation, before he could call her on it. She turned slightly, hoping to keep Ron's attention away, and was surprised when Dean, his arms still wrapped around her, followed seamlessly. Dividing her attention, she managed to discuss the strengths and weaknesses of the Chasers who had been on the field today while watching as Remus handed something very small to Harry, receiving a somewhat larger item in exchange.

As Harry approached, she saw that the item Remus had given him was a pair of Omnioculars, which Ginny thought were the same ones he'd purchased at the World Cup. Harry's hand was covering the logo, so she couldn't tell for certain.

Ron had obviously noticed them as well. "Brilliant, mate! I worried when you didn't show up for the match–I mean, how can you talk tactics with your captain when he hasn't seen the competition play–but watching the match from the other side of the pitch to get a different perspective, see all the plays we don't have a great view of from the Gryffindor stands, and recording it–that's brilliant! Did you get a clear shot of the Ravenclaw goal just before Summerby caught the Snitch? It was too far down the pitch and behind half the house–I couldn't see it clearly. It looked like a standard Porskoff Ploy, but I thought I saw Cadwallader cobbing. The Ravenclaws might have cause to lodge a protest."

Ginny had no idea how Ron missed it –_That's a lie; Ron's always been clueless about people_ – but it was obvious to her that Harry had no idea what Ron was talking about. Given the look of panic that had flashed across his face, and the fact that she'd just seen Remus hand those very same Omnioculars to Harry, she wasn't sure Harry had even known who'd won the match.

She sent Harry a pointed look before interrupting Ron. "Don't start that now. You're supposed to meet Hermione right after the match." Ron looked like he was going to object (and they all knew that it wouldn't matter if Ron were late; Hermione wouldn't be disappointed about extra library time during N.E.W.T.s year), so Ginny added, "Besides, Harry and I need to talk."

"About what?" Ron asked suspiciously.

Ginny gave an exasperated sigh. "Honestly, Ron, you don't ask that at Christmas."

Appeased, Ron loped away without further complaint. Dean had recognized her ploy even without covert glances or pointed looks, and with a quick kiss, he followed her brother. _I'm so lucky_, she thought and made a mental note to reward her perceptive boyfriend.

Still watching the boys heading up to the castle, she was careful to keep her tone light. "Whatever it is you're dealing with..." Harry stiffened beside her, and she paused, knowing that if she were to press him now, he would shut her out completely. Since whatever he'd gotten himself entangled with now had only just progressed as far as "making Harry an emotional wreck" – hadn't even gotten to "Harry the Hospital Wing patient" – there was no point in forcing him to alienate her early, so she changed her tack. "It won't continue to interfere with your duties as Quidditch captain." There was no hint of question in her tone; it was clearly a warning.

"No," he said, and she was pleased to see that she'd nearly coaxed a grin from him.

"That's another one you owe me. You're racking them up; I hope it's worth it." She layered just a hint of a question in her voice, subtle and easily ignored, but enough to let him know that she was willing to listen if he needed to talk.

"I think it might be," he replied, sounding a bit stunned but sincere. She was disappointed when he didn't elaborate, but not surprised.

Ginny grinned and wound her arm through his as they headed back to the castle. "So, what did I want to talk to you about?"

* * *

Remus paused as soon as he was within the limits of the spell. Draco was sitting with his feet braced on the grass, his elbows balanced on his knees and his hands buried in his hair.

"Pleased" was not a word that would readily be used to describe his demeanor, and Remus feared that the meeting had not gone as well as Harry had intimated. There was no indication that Draco was aware of Remus's approach, but when he was no more than two feet away, Draco lifted his head, meeting Remus's gaze without any surprise. "It could have been worse. We're neither of us dead, so things definitely could have been worse," he said, waving at Remus to sit down. There was enough of a smile in his voice that Remus was reassured that Draco also felt optimistic about the meeting.

"He's not what I expected." Remus tried to stifle his amusement at the bewilderment in the boy's tone, but he knew he had been unsuccessful when Draco rolled his eyes and shrugged ruefully. Remus was pleased: he'd feared it would take Draco much longer to put aside his preconceptions and react to Harry himself.

Draco summarized their meeting in greater detail than Harry had been able to do in their brief conversation, and from the sounds of it, the encounter had gone as well as could be expected, overwhelmingly so. The only truly surprising revelation was Draco's confession that he'd been eavesdropping in the hospital wing, which, he explained, was what prompted him to be especially careful with his temper. The child was bright enough that he would have figured it out for himself, so Remus was flattered that Draco attributed it to him. Remus also felt great pride that Draco could admit his faults – both to himself and to Remus – and that he could strive so capably, and so successfully, to mend them.

It gave him hope for their future relationship.

"He could take advantage of the power he has over me. He claims that he won't. I think I believe him." Draco looked almost beseechingly at Remus, as though he were hoping for confirmation of his feeling but was fearful that it wouldn't be sincere.

Remus listened attentively to the rest of Draco's recounting, offering this and other assurances when they were requested, but Draco's instincts were accurate, and Remus's remarks were largely just confirmation of that.

Before long, however, Draco announced that he was going to be late to meet his head of house.

"There's been a change of plans, actually. Severus is ... unavailable."

"Is there a problem in Slytherin?" Draco started to stand, clearly intending to see if he could assist.

Remus caught his wrist before the boy moved out of reach. "He was Called."

Draco froze in his half crouch. "_What?_"

Remus tightened his grip in support before he released it. "I know it's horrible timing, but he's experienced at this. He'll be fine. Fortunately, that horror will be over soon."

Draco sat back down but didn't lose his dumbfounded expression, and Remus realized that he was shocked by more than the unfortunate timing. "You didn't know?"

"Of course _I_ knew."

Remus closed his eyes. "He didn't tell you." Remus didn't bother to be more specific than that; he didn't need to be.

"No," Draco replied bitterly, "he didn't. So, he _is_ the spy. Since Voldemort first returned?"

Remus shifted uncomfortably. He didn't want to lie – Draco would eventually find out, and he valued this relationship, however tentative, too much to sacrifice it so casually – but neither did he want to hurt Severus's relationship with the boy. Before he could make the decision, it was taken from him. The pause was too long, and Draco was far from stupid.

"Since his first reign. Nice that he thought so highly of me." Visibly distressed, he stood. His movements were too jerky to be considered pacing, but he was unable to be still. "I _went_ to Severus with my doubts. You can't possibly have _any_ idea how _hard_ that was." He stopped suddenly, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

Given Remus's own history and his difficulty broaching the subject of his Lycanthropy, he thought he had a better idea than most, but rather than arguing the point, he remained silent, letting Draco vent his frustration. The boy had turned to stand facing away from Remus, who nonetheless noticed the quick swiping motions in front of his eyes. He refrained from mentioning that, too.

"I went to him, and asked, and got in return the most banal, pat answers." He turned, abruptly, so he was facing Remus once again, and he continued in a very challenging tone: "I asked him, once, about the Dark Lord's rhetoric about Muggle-borns, asked why, if it were true, Granger was always at the top of all her classes. Do you know what he did? He _looked_ at me with this damned expression of expectation, like he wanted to know why I wasn't besting her, and said," – with perfect mimicry, he quoted – "'The answer, Draco, is obvious. I believe you will find the answer evident after due consideration of the facts."

_Oh, Severus_, Remus thought with equal parts affection and rueful resignation. _Now, perhaps, Draco had enough experience with the complexities of life to understand your subtlety, but the child had far too little exposure to any influences that were contrary to the path Lucius had set for him._

"I'm Draco fucking Malfoy. That used to mean something. Something powerful even when it wasn't admired. What the fuck happened?"

The question was clearly rhetorical – Draco knew how culpable Lucius Malfoy was, how deranged Voldemort had become – but the next one wasn't:

"Does Potter know?"

Wordlessly, Remus nodded.

"I felt so _guilty_ about accepting when Severus offered to stand as my father in the ritual, knowing that it would mean exposing the Boy Who Lived to a Death Eater." Remus made to warn him about that but Draco waved off his interruption before he had a chance to speak. "I _know_ he hates the title, but it's 'The Boy Who Lived' that I was scared for – Severus has nothing against 'Harry Potter.'"

_You're wrong about that or, at least you would have been, only a few months ago_, Remus thought as Draco continued his tirade.

"He was always such a model follower. My father _laughed_ when Bellatrix first accused him of being the spy. I wasn't even certain he'd be able to leave entirely, and I expected to have to watch him, just in case, but I was willing to do it because _I_ wanted him there. I spent half of my childhood wishing Severus was my biological father. The only good part of this entire mess was a second chance at a dream I'd given up long ago."

He settled finally, leaning resignedly against the support beam. "Well, if nothing else, it's a sign that the adoption will go well – clearly he thinks I'm a child still." He let his head fall back against the post, and though the boy did not react, it hit with a force that could not be painless. "I've spent the last few months being betrayed by family or people that I trusted as though they were, and now I can include Severus in that category, too." He scoffed self-deprecatingly. "I felt so special when Severus chose me over the Dark Lord after Lucius didn't. It's much less impressive now."

"That's enough."

Remus stood.

"I'm not belittling the difficulties you're facing, but think about the position Severus has been in, what he's sacrificed... The danger to your godfather if you had been sent by Lucius to discover if he were indeed the traitor was absolute. His death would have been a blessing. Blaming him for failing to risk safety and sanity, not to mention the most reliable source of information the Order had on the whim of a child, is both short-sighted and selfish." He softened his tone. "He_ does_ care about you, Draco. Severus has been confronted with conflicting loyalties many times, more, as a spy, not less, and it was your plight which tipped the scales. I think if you were to pay attention to Severus's _words_, rather than what you assumed he'd said, you'd find that rather than parroting Lucius Malfoy's bigotry, he was encouraging you to think for yourself."

Draco started to challenge that, but Remus stared him down and knew, exactly, when Draco realized what his godfather had meant: the boy's gaze dropped to the ground even as a blush crept up his neck.

"I see that now," he mumbled.

Remus wanted to reach out to him, to squeeze his shoulder, anything that would ease the awkwardness, but he didn't think the boy was ready for that. In the Malfoy household, Remus knew, physical contact had not been encouraged. Knowing the distaste teenaged boys held for emotional discussions and that Draco had already had an exceptionally long day, Remus decided the best thing to do was change the subject.

"I recorded the match on Harry's Omnioculars; obviously, Severus was unable to do the same for you. Harry said he would be willing to lend you his. If you tell me when you'd be free to watch it, I can pass on the message."

Looking relieved at the introduction of a new topic, he replied, "I should check to see if Uncle Severus left a message for me before he left, but I've the rest of the day free. Thank you."

His expression of gratitude was slightly awkward, but the sincerity was evident, and Remus assured him that no part had been onerous. As they began to make their way out from under the stands, Remus pulled out James's Invisibility Cloak, which Harry had lent him earlier. Guests were occasionally permitted on Hogwarts grounds, but Remus, being a werewolf, would have the purpose of his visit scrutinized far too closely if he were seen by certain people. He could have used a Disillusionment spell, of course, but they were chancy within the castle walls, since numerous Unveiling Traps had been laid to catch intruders.

Remus was remembering the first time he'd seen the Cloak when he was distracted by a sharp intake of breath from slightly behind him.

"Re–Remus?"

"Yes?" He'd stopped, and Remus turned to face him.

"I think..." His eyes rolled back, and he started to slide to the ground. He would have hit if Remus hadn't been there to catch him.


	10. Forming Bonds

_All rights to the world of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling and a number of very large corporations, none of which is me, and I do not intend to make any money whatsoever from this endeavour._

_Particular thanks must be given to my lovely Betas Tithenai and, particularly, Phoenix Writing who have helped make this a much better story in both style and content. Any mistakes which remain are, indubitably, my own._

Not Bad Enough: The Historical Origins of the Unforgivables _as well as much of the magical theory I'm using for this story are borrowed without permission from __Gateway Girl's absolutely brilliant story _Blood Magic_. (Seriously, if you've never read it, do. It's long and detailed and gorgeous - one of the top three fics I've ever read.)_

_Additional notes are available before the prologue._

_Constructive criticism is always very much appreciated._

Originally posted 6 Feb. '09

**Forming Bonds**

_Pain_.

As Draco woke up, the first thing that registered was _pain_. It wasn't intense or sharp, but it was constant and everywhere. Even his eyelids and his toenails hurt. It was overwhelming. It took a few moments before he remembered collapsing, and remembering the information he'd learned from Remus – that was still odd, calling him that – added bitterness and betrayal to his catalogue of pain.

Eventually, he worked up the courage to open his eyes, and he found Remus Lupin sitting next to his bed, watching him, with a glass of water ready at hand.

"What happened?" Draco asked.

"You collapsed on the pitch." _Obviously_. He was going to clarify his question, but Remus shook his head to cut him off, looked around warily, and mouthed silently, "Not until Severus returns."

"He's not back yet?" Draco turned to the window to find that it was dark outside, and his bitterness was softened by concern.

"No, but it's only been a few of hours." Remus squeezed Draco's hand reassuringly. "How are you feeling?"

Draco didn't have to think about his answer. "Sore. It hurts everywhere."

"What sort of pain?"

"The painful kind?" Having been incredibly restrained and given a brief answer rather than subjecting him to a full litany of complaints, Draco was annoyed that his reply was insufficient and didn't feel guilty for being facetious. Remus didn't seem to mind, though, smiling faintly as he elaborated, "Is it sharp, aching, burning...?"

"Aching. Like I played all positions in a two week Quidditch match. Right after letting the other team's Beaters use me for target practice."

Remus looked at him assessingly. "Is it bearable?"

"It's going to have to be," Draco replied stubbornly. If this was related to the next stage of the bonding – and they both know that it very likely was – then pain inhibitors would not only be ineffective, they could also interfere with the process.

Happily, Remus didn't argue, changing the subject entirely instead. "Were you able to follow much of the match from under the stands?"

Draco shook his head, and Remus began distracting him. Unfortunately, they'd had time for little more than a brief recap before Poppy arrived to do tests, and Remus excused himself. Draco assumed that would be the last he'd see of him, and he resigned himself to solitude while he avoided answering the majority of Poppy's questions. He was reasonably certain he wasn't fooling her in the slightest, but the pain was real, so she didn't press him for information as hard as she could have.

Draco was surprised to see Remus return just as she finished. That was nothing compared to Poppy's shock when Draco gave permission for Remus to stay and listen to the results, but she limited her reaction to gaping a bit and didn't say anything about it. "If I couldn't compare the results of these scans to your medical records, I'd say there's nothing wrong with you but a serious case of fatigue. However, since I have them here..." she skimmed the notes in his file "...in addition to indications of physical exhaustion, you also have higher than usual magic levels and your magical signature has mutated. It doesn't appear to be dangerous or malignant; as I said, without previous scans I would assume that it was normal. But magical signatures don't arbitrarily change, and I can't find evidence of a cause." Poppy paused as though she expected Draco to fill an explanation, but he remained silent.

She put away her wand and said, more brusquely than usual, "I'd like Professor Snape and the Headmaster to do scans of their own. You'll have to stay here until then."

Draco thought about protesting but didn't want to be restricted to his room as an alternative. The Head Boy and Girl shared a two-bedroom suite with a small common room intended for prefect meetings, tutoring sessions, and other related responsibilities. He'd made it clear to his friends early in the term that the suite wasn't for socializing, phrasing it as a warning about eavesdropping Gryffindors. They knew how much he valued his privacy and that if he was in the mood for company, he'd join them in the Slytherin common room, so they rarely disturbed him there unless it was for serious house business. Granger knew better than to interrupt unless it was an emergency.

If he were in his room, therefore, privacy would be guaranteed but so would boredom. Since the special project he'd been working on since the beginning of term had been completed, he'd be left with only his class assignments, and he wasn't sure how long his eyes would focus if he tried to read. Here, at least, there was Remus, at least for the moment, and the chance of overhearing something useful.

When Poppy realized that the idea of leaving the hospital wing wasn't enough to entice him to reveal more, she left the room, warning him that dinner would be arriving shortly and that he was expected to eat everything on his plate.

When the food arrived, Draco was surprised to see two servings, though Remus was not. While they ate, Remus told Draco of his history with Poppy, how she'd looked after him as a boy, one of the few who knew of his condition when he was a student at Hogwarts, and almost the only one who treated him well despite that knowledge, at least until his roommates discovered his condition.

Draco was eager to hear more – he could tell that Remus was holding back interesting details – but the strain of his body adapting to the bond was taking its toll, and by the time Draco had finished eating he could barely keep his eyes open. He dozed for a while but was unable to fall completely under, so he drifted in and out of consciousness where boredom vied with pain, and neither was preferred.

Each time Draco woke, he found Remus watching over him. After ascertaining if Draco needed anything, he'd settle back into his book. It made Draco a bit uncomfortable but mostly guilty for depriving him of sleep when there was nothing to be done but to let his body adjust to the changes the bond was making to it. Before Hogwarts, it was the house-elves who looked in on him when he was ill, if it was serious enough to warrant it. It was strange having a person there, hovering. A bit embarrassing. And kind of comforting.

* * *

Though he was careful not to show it, it was with great relief that Severus returned to Hogwarts in the cold, pale light of dawn.

Walking across the grounds, he wished for a Portkey to his rooms, knowing full well that even if it were possible, the risk would be too great. Voldemort could easily steal it or follow him, and, if it were discovered, simply having it without informing the Dark Lord would be enough to have him killed.

The walk seemed endless, trapping him with his own thoughts for far too long. Tonight's meeting had been particularly difficult, not physically this time – at least, no more than usual – but in light of the entertainment offered. The effort he had to exert to keep Voldemort and the Death Eaters from knowing exactly how affected he still was after all these years was immense but necessary: such a weakness would not go unexploited.

To make matters worse, Voldemort had been particularly capricious tonight, which never boded well for anyone.

Not for Severus, whose mind, as Potter would say, had been 'attacked' with every mercurial shift of mood. The Dark Lord did not like being forced to admit that others surpassed him in his talents, and the most expedient way to avoid the necessity of that was to destroy anyone he suspected of doing so. If he were to discover Snape could successfully keep secrets from him, Voldemort would be certain that something was being hidden. Snape had to choose memories, not all of them good or safe, behind which to hide the dangerous thoughts.

Not for the Death Eaters generally, who were subjected to punishing curses, including the ever-popular Cruciatus, alternating with taunts of a secret, one that would bring them the victory they had been anticipating, and praise for the unnamed follower who had conceived of the plan. Snape noticed several Death Eaters trying to hide looks of smug satisfaction and wondered what else the Dark Lord had brewing that they might think that their plans might be favoured.

Most certainly not for the Muggle-born boy or his Muggle family – a sister and two parents – who were brought in as the evening's entertainment. It was not a common activity, but Voldemort was in a particularly jovial and sadistic mood, and periodically he did have to appease his more bloodthirsty followers. Fortunately, Severus had established himself early on as finding this sort of activity distasteful and common – and since he could create poisons and other brews that the others could not, the Dark Lord permitted his peculiarities.

Rumours of a voyeurism fetish were encouraged, since it both complemented his duties as spy and enabled him some form of participation in torture sessions. The latter was necessary, since participation was not optional. Severus suspected it was required to discourage any temptation to betray other followers in exchange for witness testimony. Oh, it was couched in terms of dedication to the cause when Death Eaters were out of mind with drink, and encouraged with pain if necessary, but by the time a follower had earned the Mark, he was no longer innocent.

Only those who had participated, participated _enthusiastically_, had the honour of being given the Mark, making Ministry plants near to impossible. Death Eaters willing to turn traitor were even rarer. That was, in large part, why the Ministry had such difficulty after the first Voldemort rising and why the wizarding world had such suspicion of all with the Mark, even those who'd legitimately claimed Imperius for the actual branding.

That suspicion, Severus knew first hand, since even with Dumbledore's testimony that he had been spying for the Order he was still watched by Ministry and citizen alike. Too many tales had been told and proven by Death Eaters trying to escape Azkaban.

As much as he would have preferred to retreat to the solace of his own rooms, he made his way to the headmaster's office, needing to report to Dumbledore first, even if that report would be, for the most part, thoroughly useless.

There had been no discussion of strategies or targets, and there had been little to disclose the location of the gathering: it was a large, sparsely decorated ballroom that Snape did not recognize, and there were no windows. It could easily have been a dungeon or a cave transformed for the evening.

There was only one shard of information that was of any use, but it was enough to warrant the climb: he had learned conclusively that there was a traitor in the Order.

Lucius Malfoy had had access to the _Book of Students_ while governor of the school. Even after he'd been arrested in the Department of Mysteries, Fudge had thought secrecy more important and refused to take precautions with the safety of potential students – even the Muggle-borns who were most vulnerable and most in danger. The Order did what it could, and once Amelia Bones assumed the title of Minister, things were better, but there were still too many of Fudge's people in the Ministry to know whom they could trust. As a result, the primary responsibility was still assumed by the Order.

A few had been chosen to set up protections, and Severus had been one of them. He'd actually worked on the house of the family being tortured this evening. To say that Severus had liked the boy was a bit strong, but he'd been certain the child would have been Sorted into Slytherin.

The little girl and her parents were dead. The boy, age seven, had been casting wild magic, trying desperately to save his family and had been constrained several hours ago. Whether he would survive or not was anyone's guess. Severus had hoped to be able to see to the child afterward, to find out how he had been captured, but Gibbon was tasked with seeing to him, and Snape was asked to remain behind with Lucius, Bellatrix, and Voldemort when the others were dismissed.

The Dark Lord asked about Draco: his health, his state of mind. He must have thought he was being subtle but even if Severus hadn't known what was going on, it would have been obvious that he was probing for something. Severus's answers were somewhat misleading, but they were supported by the memories that Severus pushed forward. Bellatrix was disgruntled, but the Dark Lord was pleased. He handed Snape a package for Draco: a gift, he said, to enable him to make the most of his position. Knowing he was meant to assume the Dark Lord was referring to Draco having been named Head Boy, Severus took it without hesitation and showing no nervousness, though whatever it contained couldn't be good.

He left that last out of his report: Dumbledore would not be able to resist investigating, and Severus would not risk being exposed this close to the end because of the older man's need to meddle.

His account finished, he stood wearily to return to his rooms, only to sit back down as Dumbledore told him about Draco.

* * *

"What?!"

Draco woke with a start, and his attention was immediately drawn to voices in the hall.

"I'm sorry–"

"Why would you–"

"He _asked_, Severus, and I wasn't going to lie to him."

"My _life_ depends– " The tone was so cold that Draco nearly shivered.

"Don't you think I know that?" Remus interrupted. "He deserved to be told, and you should have been the one to do it. Did you think he wouldn't figure it out? He's far too intelligent for that to–"

"After the bonding. I intended to tell him then."

_After I was unequivocally on Potter's side_, Draco understood. The delay was indicative of a lack of trust. Draco had known that, even as much as he'd hoped it wasn't true, but hearing it confirmed, a bit of his heart–only recently mended–broke again.

They were close now, possibly in the doorway. Careful to make it look like he were shifting in his sleep, he curled up a bit, as though shielding himself physically could protect himself from emotional pain and listened to their whispered argument.

"Did he and Potter have a chance to talk?" The change of subject was abrupt and lacking a Slytherin's usual finesse.

"They did– I spoke briefly with Harry, and with Draco a bit more in depth – both claim it went well. Parts of this may be good for them, eventually." Severus snorted. "When I told Harry that Draco was here, he wanted to stay with him."

Draco nearly started at that. Why in the name of Merlin would Potter want to stay with him in the hospital wing? After a few moment's reflection of Potter's reputation and his reaction to Diggory's death, Draco assumed it was his guilt complex.

"You told him?" Snape's response was heavy with disapproval.

Remus's sigh was audible. "Harry had offered to lend Draco his Omnioculars, and Draco was clearly in no shape to borrow them. I didn't want to risk Harry getting impatient and looking for Draco, so I went and found him."

"You left Draco alone?"

"Really, Severus, what do you think of me? Of course I didn't leave him alone. Poppy was here, running tests. Did you think I could somehow smuggle Draco into the hospital wing without her noticing?" There was a pause before Remus continued, his voice full of concern. "Your wits are usually sharper than this. When did you last sleep? You look exhausted."

Severus ignored the question. "Why Poppy; why not Albus?"

"Albus wasn't available, and I trust Poppy; even if she weren't bound by patient confidentiality and an honourable witch besides, she'd keep quiet because I asked it of her."

"He's right about that, though I don't see how secrecy can be maintained with the two of you whispering so loudly. You might as well be yelling for all the discretion you're showing. Not to mention you've woken up the patient."

Draco didn't know how Poppy knew he was awake, but he knew attempting to fake sleep would draw more attention.

"Mr. Malfoy, how are you feeling?"

"Better," he answered. 'Strange' would have been a better word, but he didn't want to risk an explanation in front of her, since he didn't know how much she'd been told.

She looked as though she knew that he was holding back and why. "Do you know enough about whatever he's embroiled in to know what he should be feeling?" she asked Remus and Severus. The former nodded, and the latter clearly thought the answer should have been obvious and stared silently. She turned back to Draco. "Can you explain your symptoms to either of them?"

Regretting the need for secrets and hoping they wouldn't damage his relationship with the healer in class, he nodded.

"Fine," she said briskly. "I'll leave, you talk, and when I get back you can tell me what needs healing."

Draco shifted uncomfortably as she crossed back to the door.

"Poppy, wait." Severus glared at the other man, making Draco glad that he wasn't the one to issue the protest. "You know she's trustworthy, Severus," Remus continued mildly.

Draco watched their silent battle of wills in fascination, but he hadn't realized that he was staring until his godfather met his eyes briefly before turning back to Remus. They stared silently for another moment, then Severus nodded.

As Remus began to explain, Poppy picked up her wand and began a series of scanning spells.

_Poppy_, Draco had to admit, _controlled her reaction very well_. He assumed that was in part her matter-of-fact personality and because she was used to delivering difficult diagnoses, but Draco would be grateful when explanations were no longer necessary. For his part, Draco found the listening to be less painful than it had been. He found himself more angry than hurt. He was tired of the pitying looks. It was unusual, and he didn't like it.

He was grateful that Potter had agreed to participate, he truly was, but that in itself was humiliating, which did not mix well with his resentment of the entire situation.

It galled him that he'd had to ask– that he'd had to ask Severus to ask. _He_ had been raised to be a leader; _he_ had been trained in the rituals and traditions of the wizarding world; _he_ was far better suited to be _dominus_.

Potter was a Muggle-raised half-blood whose primary talents seemed to be Quidditch and getting into trouble. Draco was certain that without Granger he wouldn't have survived his years at Hogwarts. He had no idea of the power he wielded, neither with his wand nor in the wizarding world, and no idea _how_ to wield it if he wanted to try.

During the entire meeting on Friday in which they had debated on the relative merits of various particulars of the ritual, it had been increasingly obvious that Potter had little to no interest in the details. He'd let the discussion wash over him, barely following, rarely contributing, and absorbing no understanding of the significance of it. The latter, at least, looked to be due entirely to his lack of interest: gross stupidity was not one of his faults.

None of Draco's housemates would have been so blasé. Not because the ambition that their House was known for guaranteed untrustworthiness – though it did manifest as such often enough to warrant the cliché, and Slytherins quickly learned to be wary – but because there were enough of them from the Old Families that they recognized the solemnity of blood magic and were wary when it was used.

The ritual was centuries old, created in a time when a wealth of information could be conveyed – both to those observing and the parties involved – through the symbols, colours, and other details that were chosen. Harry, on the other hand, had let the victims make those choices, taking for granted that they would not take advantage of him. He was lucky that Draco was determined enough to make this work and that he was – possibly for the first and only time of his entire life – being honest and fair.

No doubt what Potter would get out of this – it was obvious that Potter needed him, even if he didn't know it.

* * *

The Gryffindors' Quidditch practice on Sunday morning was less intense than their last one – for which the team was grateful – and Harry and Ron returned to the dorm afterwards with time before lunch.

After a quick glance at Hermione to make sure she was occupied and not likely to castigate him for abandoning her, Ron headed for the group of lower years who were absorbed with WWW merchandise. Harry looked a little more closely and noticed that, while she was tutoring Neville, she also had one eye on the group. Harry chose not to join Ron – he didn't want his presence there to be the catalyst for Hermione to intervene – and hoping to avoid an interrogation like yesterday's, he didn't want to join Hermione, but that left Harry was a bit uncertain what to do with himself. It felt rather like fifth year, when he was ostracized as an attention-seeking alarmist.

He hesitated too long, however, and Hermione had hailed him before he'd chosen an alternative. Since it would look strange otherwise, he joined her and Neville. They studied amicably in relative silence, but not for long. When Harry noticed Hermione looked like she was going to start asking questions, he distracted her with questions about the possibility of a mixed luck hex.

She looked at him with an evaluating expression. "Was that what you were researching last week?"

Harry was flustered for a moment, since he hadn't realized she'd noticed, but he took the offered explanation and shrugged.

"I wondered. I think something like that would be in the Charms and Jinxes – though I don't remember seeing anything in _Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes_ or _A __Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions_. Most of the books you were looking at dealt far more with ritual magic; I don't think he'd have had time, even if it was classified there, though maybe you're right – it very well could be Dark."

"Not all ritual magic is Dark," Neville said defensively. Harry looked at him in surprise. The other boy had gained a lot of confidence in the years Harry had known him, but correcting Hermione was not something to be undertaken lightly. Indeed, Hermione looked as though she was going to dispute that, but Neville made his point anyway. "After Vol-demort... disappeared, the Ministry banned a lot of the Old magic – ritual and blood magic, mostly, as they're often used both together, and passed down through the Old Families. It allowed the Ministry to keep suspects in custody while they tried to collect evidence tying them to Death Eater crimes. But it's not all Dark or even illegal."

Neville gestured at Harry. "Your mum's protection was probably both ritual and blood magic. The accepted spells are usually used for adoption or marriage bonds, things of that sort." Through sheer force of will, Harry kept himself from jumping down his throat right then: it really wasn't the time for them to have that discussion. Fortunately, neither of them noticed: Hermione, because she was staring incredulously at Neville, and Neville, because he was shrinking from Hermione. "What?"

"You don't usually volunteer that much information, especially not on a subject that should be covered in History of Magic."

"Gran taught me a lot over the summer. Being seventeen, I needed to be able to take over the wards, if necessary."

Hermione looked like she was going to ask Neville to describe in minute detail every moment of each lesson or to Pensieve the lot, and Neville looked like he'd discovered a new Boggart form, so Harry steered the conversation back to the mixed luck hex. It had after all, worked before.

Hermione promised to look into it but then started asking about the research he'd done. He didn't know what to answer – he didn't want to direct her attention to the books he knew were useful. Before the pause was too long, one of the products that Ron's group was testing exploded. Hermione jumped up to berate her boyfriend.

"Ron! Why didn't you separate the dangerous ones?!" she asked, putting out the small fire.

"That's NEVER happened before!" Ron's shock sounded real, and Hermione used that as an excuse to confiscate the WWW merchandise until it could be taken outside.

Focused on that, she missed Neville putting his wand away with a slight flush. It deepened when he noticed Harry gaping at him, but they didn't have a chance to speak as Hermione and a bewildered and slightly sullen Ron joined them at the table, and conversation shifted, for which Harry was grateful.

* * *

Once Poppy had been made aware of the situation and had performed her battery of tests, she concurred with their assumption that the collapse had been due to the bond's acceptance of him as _vectigal_ and that there hadn't been any other effects beyond the expected fatigue. Since Draco was adamant that he wouldn't risk pain reducing spells, Poppy returned to her office.

Draco estimated how long he'd been under the stands talking with Potter–Harry and then with Remus. "So I was right," he said.

"There's no conclusive evidence–"

Remus cut off Severus's protest. "We are not having that discussion again. We have no proof otherwise and are uncertain. He's the one with conviction, and he's the one who will have to suffer the consequences. Let him try." Severus nodded, and Draco exhaled gratefully. He was positive his interpretation of the ritual was the correct one, but fighting pain, tension, and exhaustion was taking nearly everything he had. He wasn't certain he'd have been able to stand up to his godfather as well.

"Aside from the pain, have you noticed any other signs of the bond?" Draco could tell just from the extremely casual tone that his godfather was hoping that the answer was no and the pain was a sign that the bond was rejecting him as unsuitable, and gratitude became resentment. Severus may have considered that the best case scenario, but if Draco wasn't going to be bonded to the Dark Lord – and sure as Slytherin, he didn't intend to be – then he wanted Harry Potter's protection.

"I can tell where Harry is, vaguely, from a distance," he replied with smug satisfaction, though he was careful to keep the gloating out of his tone, "and with more certainty as I get closer. Sometimes I can tell where he's _not_, mostly in the dungeons."

"How?" Remus asked curiously.

"It's like... a rope of magic connecting me to him, with threads of 'wrongness' to the places he's not." Considering that, Draco qualified his statement. "At least, that's what I'd assumed those other threads meant. But I'm getting a very strong 'negative' thread from you, Uncle Severus."

Severus didn't seem surprised by that, but he didn't explain. Instead, he asked Remus if he could speak with Draco alone. Remus looked at Draco before answering, and Draco had the strangest feeling that if he'd protested, the werewolf would have refused to leave. Draco didn't, however, so Remus just touched his arm encouragingly before leaving. The brief contact felt good, like it was equalizing the pressure, and the pain lessened just for a moment.

Without saying a word, Severus took a package from his robes, placed it on the table next to him, and crossed to the other side of the room. "Is the thread directed at me or the parcel?"

"The parcel." Draco didn't hesitate. With the parcel separate from his godfather, the feeling was much stronger, and it was making him very uncomfortable.

Severus moved to pick up the parcel, and he brought it with him to the bed. Draco had to fight the urge to recoil violently. His reaction made sense when Severus explained that the Dark Lord had instructed him to deliver the package. Draco opened it gingerly. It contained a number of books the Dark Lord claimed would assist in preparing Draco to meet his expectations. Draco was positive he did not want to read them: they were sex manuals, really, and not the sort that would have made him popular with the boys in dorm. They were much more specialized, instruction manuals, really, and Severus paled at the titles. Simply being in possession of them would have been enough to put him in detention for the rest of the year if not have him expelled altogether if they hadn't been charmed to appear innocuous to others. There were also charms to track when the book was open, so even after he'd pledged to Harry, he'd have to do a credible imitation of studying them, if they didn't want to cause suspicion.

It had confirmed, without a doubt, that that was not the future he wanted for himself.

It had also made him wonder how it could be the future Lucius Malfoy wanted for his heir. He was a stern and powerful man, but Draco had tried so _hard_ though his childhood to be what he'd been expected to be, even knowing that he'd rarely be successful. The intense relief and incomparable joy when he'd earn praise, the quiet pride he'd felt when he would be recognized as the Malfoy son – he'd lived for those feelings.

And his mother had loved him, as best she could between the demands on her time and Lucius's dictates.

It had been enough, had been worth it.

Or so he'd thought.

Finding out how little he was valued was demoralizing, to say the least.

Severus may not have been a recreation of his childhood dream, and he might not be treating Draco as trustworthy, but he would be better than that. _Thank Merlin for second chances_.

He hadn't realized until he was yelling at Remus yesterday exactly how bitter he was that Severus had abandoned him as a child.

They'd had an opportunity to talk about why his godfather hadn't told him, even after he'd expressed his own doubts. Draco wasn't entirely happy with the outcome of the conversation. Severus wasn't showing nearly enough remorse – not any at all, really – but Draco had grudgingly come to admit that he could at least understand why Severus had made the choices he did.

The spell would give him a second chance with Severus, to see if the relationship they had almost had when Draco was a child could be recaptured.

He would also have a proper chance with Remus and Harry, a chance to make things right. _He_ had been the reason why those relationships hadn't worked, with Remus because he'd been too cowed by Lucius's dictates to give the man a chance, with Harry because the principles Lucius had instilled in him had been incompatible with the society the wizarding world had become.

"Is that everything?" he asked, hoping with every fibre of his being that he could just be left alone.

"I'm afraid not."

Draco turned to Severus expectantly, waiting to see exactly what sort of justification he intended to offer for keeping his spy status secret. Would he tell the truth? Honesty now would go a long way towards countering the betrayal that was all too familiar. He'd finally started to overcome those feelings but they had returned with a vengeance after yesterday's conversation with Remus.

Unfortunately, Draco wasn't going to get an explanation let alone an apology.

"You are aware that as _vectigal_ all of your rights, honours, and goods become the property of your _dominus_."

Draco looked at him blankly, waiting for the point.

"The headmaster and your cousin have taken care of your financial disclosure and other paperwork, but there are still some items outstanding."

Bemused, Draco stared his godfather. Moving all the property he had at school out of the Head Boy's room would be tantamount to– _Oh. T__he Head Boy's room._

"Head Boy." He said hollowly.

"And Seeker."

He wouldn't cry. Not about this. "Of course, sir." He kept his tone as even as he could. "The badges are attached to my robes." He pointed to where Pomfrey had put them when he'd been admitted.

While his godfather occupied with that, Draco tried valiantly to compose himself.

* * *

Though he was being careful not to show it, Harry was relieved to see Draco at lunch. The Slytherin had missed breakfast, which concerned Harry until the headmaster had discreetly pulled him aside to assure him that Draco was fine; he'd woken earlier, still confident in his decision to bond himself to Harry, and gloating – not the word Dumbledore used, but Harry could read between the lines – that the timing of the collapse had all but proved his pet theory about the scheduling of the next stage of the ritual.

According to the information they could glean from the books they could access, various aspect of the ritual – the times, locations, etc. – could influence the resulting bond, and certain choices would make it stronger or more powerful. Unfortunately, the texts were unclear as to whether that referred to the power of the _dominus_ over the _vectigal_ or to the partnership. Draco had argued for the latter interpretation based on an improperly translated pronoun antecedent. Remus expressed reservations but allowed that Draco's theory had theoretical merit. Snape and Harry were decidedly against taking the risk.

Draco's theory involved waiting until late Sunday to pledge himself, anchoring the bond with Harry. It would be dangerous: until he chose someone, the bond was open, draining Draco physically, magically, and probably emotionally – another cause for bitterness towards Voldemort for his treatment of Draco, who'd intended the strain to continue for another two weeks. Depending on how long it would have taken Draco to acclimatize to the drain, attending class would have been difficult at best and likely impossible for that long without choosing a bonded. If he'd been thrilled at the idea of bonding himself to Lord Voldemort, it might have been manageable, but it was unlikely. That could have been what Voldemort and the Malfoys intended, giving them a reason to remove Draco from school early and allowing them to perform the remaining stages of the ritual in a balanced manner, but Harry rather doubted it.

It wasn't a sound policy in the slightest, since the longer the delay, the greater the chance something would go wrong. If the first casting had been as public as it should have been, for example, it would have been widely known that Draco would be bonding himself to a Parselmouth. The additional time would mean a risk of others travelling to the area to be considered, of Draco being enticed to choose another, of Draco being kidnapped and held until he broke down and pledged himself to the nearest available _dominus_. As it was, Harry had in fact 'stolen' his _vectigal_ _without_ a public declaration and _within_ the shortest possible time frame.

At the moment, however, Harry's satisfaction at thwarting Voldemort was overshadowed by his frustration with his soon-to-be bonded. Draco was doing an adequate job of hiding it, but Harry could tell that the strain was already wearing on him, and there were several hours before the time he intended for the pledging.

Harry caught his eye eventually, flicking his own to Dumbledore and back, hoping Draco would understand what Harry was trying to say. The slight, negative motion of the other boy's head could not even be properly called a shake, but it was clear nonetheless: he had no intention of changing his mind. Harry tried again to express his concern, but after that, the other boy refused to make eye-contact with Harry entirely.

In frustration, Harry tried to communicate the same to Snape. From him, there was no discernible acknowledgement, at all, though Harry hadn't expected one. Within moments, however, Snape had stood and was heading to the Slytherin table to pull Draco aside for a Silenced discussion. It ended with Draco returning to his seat, stabbing at his suddenly offending breakfast and glaring in the general direction of the Gryffindor table, while Snape marched out of the Great Hall even more stridently than usual.

The ball of tension that had settled in Harry's stomach grew, making it impossible for him to taste his breakfast, let alone enjoy it. He waited until observers could not assume that their departures were related – a measure that was probably influenced by Slytherin paranoia and doubtless unnecessarily cautious – before throwing down his fork in defeat. "I'm heading back to the tower," he said finally.

Once there, he realized the flaw in that plan. If Draco _did_ decide his theory wasn't worth the pain, Harry would need to be somewhere Draco could communicate that to him. He grabbed his Transfiguration notes and fished through his trunk for a spare quill. He paused with his hand on _Bloodsworn_. He'd had a chance to read it properly yesterday, after the match, and it had given him an idea. After a moment of debate, wondering if it was worth pursuing, he put it in his bag as well.

Instead of heading directly to the library, he detoured to Snape's office. There, he determined that Snape's level of frustration at the fact that Draco was adamant that he would not pledge earlier was even greater than Harry's before broaching the topic he'd come to ask about, namely Snape's opinion about the potential advantages of a slight change to the ritual as they had intended it.

Unfortunately, Snape responded as Harry expected. "Are you mad?" He began scathingly. But before he worked himself into a proper rant, he took a calming breath. "Do you understand how dangerous this would be?" He continued in a surprisingly reasonable tone. "Blood magic is not to be taken lightly."

As part of the ritual, Draco would have to shed his own blood, symbolizing his willingness to die for his _dominus_. "Draco has to do it; how can I ask him to do something I'm not willing to do myself?"

"Far be it for me to stand between a Gryffindor and a stunt that is both noble and dangerous." He countered, his voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Harry drew his professor's attention to the passages in _Bloodsworn_ that discussed the elements that were worrisome about this sort of ritual, with only one participant calling blood – making the aspects they were most concerned about more likely if not absolutely certain. This text, however, went on to suggest that these dangers could be lessened if the casting were balanced.

Snape being Snape, he didn't trust the selected passages and demanded an opportunity to read in depth. Since they didn't have much time, Harry started to pull out his homework to work on while Snape read, but his professor had other ideas.

"Here," Snape said, handing him a bright, thinnish book, called _Not Bad Enough: The Historical Origins of the Unforgivables. _"Read the overview of the history of legal classification of curses. If you finish, read the section on command curses."

Harry had finished the first and the theory of command curses and was beginning the section on casting specifics when Snape closed _Bloodsworn_. He stared intently at Harry for several moments.

"Have you considered the political and social ramifications?"

Harry looked at him, genuinely puzzled.

"You are aware that blood magic is illegal."

"That's what Neville said." Harry continued before Snape could make the expected snide remark. "The Adoption Spell is also blood magic, so are the Binding Oath and Testimony Spell." The latter two were examples from the book he'd just read and standard use in the Ministry.

With his fingers on the bridge of his nose, Professor Snape closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He also muttered something which sounded suspiciously like 'Wizarding Studies' before explaining.

"All three of those spells are traditional, widely accepted, and most people don't remember that they are classified as such. They are also examples of the few legally sanctioned occasions of use, notable as exceptions. Blood magic is generally considered dangerous, Dark, even evil.

"_Fidelitās Dominō_, on the other hand, might be legal blood magic, but it is also very rare and hotly contested when the public has cause to remember that it exists. The last four motions to have it banned were defeated by the Wizongamot very narrowly, the last time more than fifty years ago. The next time will very likely be the last, particularly once the wizarding world discovers the circumstances surrounding this casting.

"Are you aware of how your participation in a ritual as controversial as Fidelitas Domino will be perceived? The magnitude of the scandal which would erupt when society discovers that the Boy Who Lived voluntarily extended his involvement, agreed to bleed himself in order to encourage equality with a _Malfoy_?" He said the name with the sneer Ron favoured. "The wizarding world will be outraged. And you'll be underaged again, once they hear of it, which will give them more incentive to interfere further."

"You and Remus are our guardians or will be, and you will let us." That got him a challenging look, so he added, "Hypothetically."

"You're forgetting that you're Harry Potter. The wizarding world will happily ignore our rights."

"They can't do anything, though, right? I'm not doing all this to find myself suddenly adopted by someone else for my own good?" Harry panicked at the idea of it.

"No. But that you even asked– This is _Blood _Magic. It is not reversible. All forms of Mentoring Spells are indelible, but this will create a bond between father and son every bit as permanent as birth. There are reasons why this branch of magic is so strictly monitored! Each time the spell is cast, the souls of the caster and the subject are amalgamated, and you'd be participating in two major rituals concurrently. They will likely augment each other and their effects on you, on both of you. You're asking to risk that on the chance that the bond _might_ manifest more equitably."

Harry nodded to show that he'd been listening but rather than answering directly, he asked a question. "Do you think I'm right? About it being more equal if I do this?"

Professor Snape stared at Harry for several seconds. "Yes," he said finally.


	11. Spondenum: The Pledging

_All rights to the world of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling and a number of very large corporations, none of which is me, and I do not intend to make any money whatsoever from this endeavour._

_Particular thanks must be given to my lovely Betas Tithenai and, particularly, who have helped make this a much better story in both style and content. Any mistakes which remain are, indubitably, my own._

_Regarding a canon discrepancy which has become relevant – in _Goblet of Fire_, the Headmaster's office is on the second floor (rather than on the seventh as it is in _Half-Blood Prince_), and I'm keeping that (especially since I'm following canon only through _Order of the Phoenix_)._

_Additional notes are available before the prologue._  
_  
Constructive criticism is always very much appreciated... and it's my birthday tomorrow, and reviews are fantastic presents. I'm just saying. :)_

Originally posted 15 Mar. '09

Spondenum: The Pledging

Draco Malfoy made his way to the headmaster's office, torn between hurrying and dawdling, but his pace was closer to the latter. A small part was due to reluctance: it would be a drastic change, the end of the life he'd known and the future he'd expected. He knew, though, that the bonding would allow him to recover a sense of Malfoy integrity and that Harry Potter was a better choice than Voldemort (and he couldn't help thinking that, with a powerful enough Time-Turner, much of this could have been avoided). The primary reason for the slowness of his pace, however, was the strangeness of walking under an invisibility cloak for the first time. Potter had lent it to Prof– to Remus yesterday, and he, in turn, had lent it to Draco. That Potter had it to lend made Draco incredibly envious: he'd wanted one for ages. They were very rare, however, and even Lucius's indulgence had limits, since Draco would have used it primarily for pranks.

Using it to sneak past Granger as he left their rooms confirmed that it would have been just as much fun as he'd imagined.

At the moment, the cloak was serving a very practical use: the formal robes he was wearing would have been a sure sign to anyone who'd seen them that _something_ unusual was occurring, and when Voldemort heard of it, as he certainly would have, _he_ would have immediately recognized the significance of them.

_Unlike Potter_, Draco thought without malice.

He permitted himself a deep, measured breath as he stood nervously outside the headmaster's office, then knocked.

Since leaving the hospital wing, Draco had noticed that the vague awareness of Potter's location had sharpened, and during lunch in the Great Hall, Draco could locate the other boy precisely even with his eyes closed. Doing so had given him a temporary increase of energy, but not acting on the knowledge had led to heightened feelings of distress. It was uncomfortable, but he had been determined to hold out until the evening when the conditions for the bonding would be ideal.

Now, as he followed that thread to the headmaster's office, the bond was thrumming strongly. So much so that he almost missed it when the rope of awareness splintered slightly. The majority was still connecting to Potter, but two barely perceptible threads, each with that sense of wrongness, were drawing Draco's attention to a portrait hanging high across the room and an ornately decorated box sitting on a table near Dumbledore's desk. He tried to observe the box discreetly as he moved towards the headmaster, but there seemed to be little remarkable about it beyond the obvious age and quality of the workmanship.

As it was Dumbledore's office and he was the highest ranking wizard in the room, he was to be greeted first.

While it hadn't been incorporated as a necessary aspect of the ritual when it had been created, as the concept and practice of legislation became more prevalent in society, the exclusion of any element representing the law seemed to have had detrimental impact on the bond, so it was convenient for their purposes that the headmaster of the school was also the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamut. His office could serve as a place that was both public and a representation of authority; he, in turn, could serve as a Ministerial witness.

"Professor Albus Dumbledore, I come before you, a _vectigal_ prepared to pledge. Will you bear witness to my choice that you may confirm the truth of the pledging and make it known" – being unable to make an immediate announcement nor to promise that which was untrue and which he had no intention of doing, they had decided Draco would deviate slightly from the traditional form of the question and hope for the best – "when the time is right?"

The older man raised his wand and released a shower of rainbow coloured sparks, replying, "By magic and honour, I will swear what is true."

_If the bond's response is any indication, the qualification will not be a hindrance_, Draco thought as he felt it change slightly, as though it were pulsing with excitement.

He nodded in acknowledgment of Professor Dumbledore's support and turned. Remus was standing near Severus, and Draco gave him an apologetic half-smile. The ritual required that Draco recognize his father next, but Draco was uncomfortable ignoring Remus entirely, especially after he'd taken such care of Draco the previous evening. The look was met with one of encouragement and understanding, and he turned to Severus.

Lucius Malfoy was technically Draco's father until the Adoption rite, and he had designated Severus as Draco's godfather, empowering him to act in Lucius's stead when he was unable to do so. There was a slight fear that it would not be sufficient in this case, as Lucius was unaware of what they were doing rather than dead or incapacitated, so it was with some nervousness that Draco said, "I have been asked to serve as _vectigal_ for the House of Black, my maternal line. My father," he hated having to call Lucius Malfoy that, "has authorized and supported this claim. Godfather, will you bear witness to my pledging in his stead?"

"By magic and honour, I will witness and accept your choice in your father's stead." Severus presented him with a dagger, the ceremonial blade of the Blacks, which had been amongst the items in Sirius Black's vault. "May your choice bring honour to your family."

The sparks from his godfather's wand were a green so dark they were nearly black, and Draco could see rainbows of light reflecting in them. Watching them gave Draco an excuse to pause before turning to his cousin, a necessary measure as the bond registered approval at a distractingly intense level. _Pritchard needs to figure out how to bottle that feeling. He'd make a fortune._

Relieved, he turned to Tonks, and they exchanged companionable grins.

"Cousin Nymphadora Tonks," Draco tried to mute his satisfaction that he had an opportunity to use it, in public, to her face, without the possibility of retaliation. He'd discovered a liking for this cousin of his, but her abhorrence for her given name, while understandable, was amusing. "Will you bear witness to my choice of _dominus_ and pledge to my choice your support and that of our shared blood?"

She extended her wand, as he did his, the tips of them just touching.

"By magic and blood we are kin, and on behalf of the House of Black, I pledge both in service of your chosen." A bright pink stream of light shot from her wand rather than sparks, and it wound around both wands. Prepared for the bond's reaction this time, Draco braced himself for it, but it was still overwhelming.

Poppy Pomfrey had been asked to witness as well, as a non-participating and neutral party. Her presence was less necessary, one neutral witness would have sufficed, but since she knew – and Severus was still slightly out of sorts about that decision – the added support would not be amiss. Draco smiled at her, but didn't speak. The ritual didn't require that neutral witnesses be addressed directly, though if adoption had already taken place, Remus would have been acknowledged as Harry's father. It was one of the many points they had debated, whether it should be included, since he had agreed to the adoption and was acting as Harry's godfather. They had eventually decided against it, since he was not a Parselmouth, and they didn't want to obscure the line being bound: there was no record of what would happen.

Turning at last to Harry, Draco knelt.

Draco held out his hand, palm up, and he took the dagger, drew the edge of the blade across his palm, set the knife upon it, and offered it to Harry. If Harry been an infant, Remus would have taken his hand, but Harry was capable of doing this himself, regardless of his legal status.

"I am the heir of the House of Malfoy, heir-designate of the House of Black, and I offer myself, all that I am and all that I have. I offer my lineage, the House of Black, all that we are and all that we have. I make this offer to you, Harry Potter, speaker of Parseltongue. Will you accept our tribute and unite our people that we may grow as kindred, in strength and integrity?" That last was the third of their deviations from what they had determined to be the standard ritual, cobbled from available texts.

Under normal circumstances, because the person chosen as _dominus_ could be an infant, Harry would not have had to speak – a baby, after all, could not recite lines on cue. Fortunately, it wasn't forbidden, just unnecessary. Being the only person present with the ability to speak Parseltongue, however, meant they had been forced to modify things so that the language, the signifier of the ritual, could be included.

Harry replied in Parseltongue, but as fascinating as he found the sound of the language (when the Dark Lord wasn't making threats), Draco was soon distracted. When Harry took the blade from Draco's proffered hand, he deviated from the ritual as they'd discussed it, slicing his own palm, mingling his blood with Draco's on the blade. Draco was hard-pressed not to react: not to move, not to speak, not to jump up and demand to know what, exactly, Potter thought he was doing. Blood rituals were _dangerous_.

Draco nearly turned to Severus to see his reaction – he would be furious, Draco was sure, though he didn't feel the pleasure he once would have taken in that – but even as he had the thought, just the idea of doing so was painful. Bright light filled his peripheral vision, and his eyes watered too much to consider turning towards it. He focussed on Harry, directly in front of him and the only thing that made sense as his head filled with light and insecurity and pride and sympathy, and it was consuming, absorbing, overwhelming, disorienting; it was all he could do not to fall over: it was a wonder that he hadn't fallen already.

There was horror at the thought.

He shouldn't do that, mustn't do that.

He was certain that he mustn't, even if he'd no idea where the certainty had come from.

And there was confidence that he wouldn't fall, that he could stay upright as long as he needed to, even as time stopped and stretched.

Infinite and instantaneous.

Then all Draco felt was dizzy relief.

He wavered slightly, and Harry extended his hand to help Draco up.

Their blood mingled as their palms touched, and they didn't immediately release the grip once Draco was standing. Staring at their hands, clasped in a motionless handshake, Draco's first coherent thought was an inappropriately irreverent, _Took you long enough_.

He looked up to meet Harry's eyes and saw a rueful half-smile cross his face, and Draco knew he'd had the same thought. That amused Draco, a bit more than it should, though it was tinged with regret, determination, and... distaste? That threw him, since he couldn't imagine what he found distasteful about shaking Harry Potter's hand – it was something he'd wanted for longer than he cared to remember.

It didn't take long for Draco to realize that they weren't his emotions, they were Harry's. That would have put him in a panic, if it hadn't also been clear that it was the need for the ritual, the situation, that he disliked, not Draco.

The light returned to previous levels.

* * *

Harry blinked and realized that he was in Dumbledore's office with half a dozen people watching him hold Draco Malfoy's hand. Draco seemed to realize it at the same time, and they exchanged another of those looks of shared humour and embarrassment.

That seemed to be the signal that everyone else was free to move as well, and he and Draco were quickly enveloped by the group. Madam Pomfrey tried to heal their hands, but Snape stopped her, insisting that they had to do it themselves. Harry remembered reading that and was embarrassed to have forgotten. He pulled out his wand, careful to get as little blood on it as possible. "May I?"

The other boy held out his hand without hesitation. "Of course." He seemed surprised that Harry would ask, but Harry didn't feel right about casting on him without permission.

The cut wasn't particularly deep, so Harry's rudimentary healing skills should have been more than sufficient. In seconds all that remained was a thin silver line, miraculous, by Muggle standard, but Harry was puzzled, since this spell shouldn't have left even that. Finished, he turned his own hand over and held it out to Draco.

"May I?" Draco echoed his question, and Harry nodded. Draco cast the healing spell and the same line appeared, which made Harry feel a bit better. His own casting hadn't been rubbish after all.

Draco smiled slightly and murmured, "It's a Spell Scar," before Tonks hugged him.

Harry watched warily as Remus approached, but Professor Snape must have warned him because he limited his admonishment to an exasperated look at the knife before hugging Harry.

Snape eyed the blade with a much darker look, but before he could lecture Harry about the proper care of the blade, Harry murmured quickly, "I wasn't sure, it's Blood magic – are standard cleaning spells a problem?" Harry was shocked to see his professor's expression clearing to something that looked almost like approval as he replied, mildly, "Not as long as you are thorough."

Harry cast the spells to clean the blood off the blade and to prevent it from being recalled, then he cast them again, just in case, and put the blade in the sheath on his belt.

The remarks from the others were congratulatory, which felt strange to Harry, since he didn't think binding himself to another living creature was really something to congratulate. Fortunately, it wasn't long before Madam Pomfrey excused herself to return to the hospital wing, which prompted a general exodus. Tonks and Remus Flooed back to Grimmauld Place, and Draco agreed to return to his room – _To rest_, Madam Pomfrey emphasized before leaving.

Harry would have left as well, but he was stopped by Professor Dumbledore. That meant Harry was unable to speak with Draco privately, but he had no idea what to say, anyway. Instead, with some trepidation, he faced Professors Dumbledore and Snape.

"Well done, Harry."

Harry nodded but didn't reply otherwise. The headmaster hadn't said anything similar to Draco and likely wouldn't, despite Draco's part taking more courage, more strength, than Harry's did.

"There are just a few practical matters that we need to address, Harry, before you are free to enjoy what is left of your weekend." Harry shared a disbelieving glance with Professor Snape while Professor Dumbledore opened a drawer of his desk. He pulled out a satchel and a smallish envelope and put them on his desk. The satchel, which looked to be dragon-hide and had a Gringotts seal, was stuffed with rolls of parchment that threatening to escape. The envelope was unlabeled.

"I had Remus prepare your financial statement, and he went over it with Professor Snape and Draco–" Harry was taken aback by that, and it must have shown on his face. "It was relevant to your suitability as _dominus_, Harry, that you are financially able to provide for a _vectigal_."

That was a logical explanation, but it did little to address Harry's actual concern. If anyone had mentioned the need, he would have been happy to agree to having a statement prepared. In all likelihood, he even would have asked Remus to do it, since he'd been working as Harry's business representative and had a much better idea of things than Harry did. None of which did anything to counter the fact that Harry was legally an adult until Saturday, and neither the headmaster nor Remus had the authority to investigate his finances without his consent. Knowing that reprimanding Dumbledore would be of no use whatsoever, Harry swallowed his resentment and nodded.

"As executor of young Mr. Malfoy's trust, I have had his statement prepared." Dumbledore gestured toward the satchel.

Harry had known to expect that, eventually. The ritual had originally been devised as a means of solidifying treaties. In addition to the _vectigal_, the dominus would assume, entirely or concomitantly, the territory, goods, titles, and rights which would have otherwise belonged to the _vectigal_, and in most cases, much if not all of what belonged to the line being bound as well.

Harry took the satchel reluctantly. "This seems awfully personal."

Dumbledore's reply was sympathetic but firm, "It belongs to you, Harry, just as Draco does. You do not have to examine it now, but you will need to be familiar with the contents by the time the bond is made public."

Still uncomfortable at the idea of ownership, he reached for the envelope, hoping to change the topic. It was unsealed, and two badges fell out: one to identify the Slytherin Seeker; the other, a shiny silver Head Boy badge.

It hadn't occurred to him that meant that the badges would be given to him as well. "I don't have to wear it, do I?" He didn't specify he meant the Head Boy badge; he assumed both men realized he'd never don the other.

"The Head Boy badge _is_ intended to ensure ease of recognition in the case of an emergency and should be visible, though I will agree that it would be imprudent to do so before next term. Secrecy is still a factor."

Two _Head Boys _– _unusual, not to mention confusing_, Harry thought, but, since arguing was as futile as reprimanding, Harry just nodded again.

"For that reason, the house elves will leave Mr. Malfoy's belongings where they are until then, if you don't have any objection."

Puzzled by that, Harry replied, "Of course I don't have an objection, but why would he have to move his stuff?"

"The room is intended for one, but it can be adapted for the two of you to share," Dumbledore replied slowly, "... if that's what you want."

"It _is_ your right to demand it." Snape added bluntly.

Harry's eyes narrowed as he realized that the badges in his hand weren't the duplicates he'd assumed. Snape rolled his eyes impatiently. "That's _the_ Head Boy badge, Potter. It's given to the Head Boy. Singular. As is the room in the Head Boy/Head Girl's suite."

Harry had a flash of silky ribbon and soft hair. "No," Harry said emphatically, putting the badges on Dumbledore's desk with more force than necessary, "I won't take it." Harry had more than enough on his plate with the responsibilities he already had. Adding the title of Head Boy in any meaningful way would be impossible, even if he wanted it. Most importantly, Draco had earned the position, had been doing a far better job than Harry could have imagined at the beginning of the year, and it would be difficult enough to negotiate their new relationship without adding that sort of resentment.

"I'm afraid you must, Harry." Dumbledore refused to take them. "It is your duty to see that the responsibilities are met."

Harry turned to appeal to Professor Snape, but he spoke before Harry could say a word. "I hope, Mr. Potter, that you are not suggesting shirking your duty in this matter, barely an hour after Mr. Malfoy pledged his life to you?"

Put that way, Harry really couldn't argue.

Harry was in no mood to be rational once he picked up the badges, a fact which was apparently evident, and he was dismissed without further attempts at conversation.

Once the gargoyle had closed behind him, Harry slumped against the wall. _What the fuck am I supposed to do now?_ He had assumed that 'titles and honours' referred to political or hereditary titles – ones that were relevant to the political world in which the ritual had been created. He knew he'd officially be the Black heir, even the Malfoy heir, as much as it pained him. Those types of titles weren't commonly used, however, except in highly fashionable pure-blood circles which Harry had no intention of being part of or maybe in the _Prophet_, and that would be better than 'the Boy Who Lived.' He hadn't expected it would apply to schoolboy nonsense that had little significance to real life.

As irrelevant as it _would_ be, later, however, it was very important right now.

It was bad enough that Harry was the Saviour of the Wizarding World and the youngest Quidditch player in a century – Draco had no chance to beat Harry at either of those – but he'd made his own House team the following year, and Seeker, too. But this…. The very idea of Harry Potter as Slytherin Seeker was preposterous: even if Draco couldn't do it, Harry _wouldn't. _Head Boy, though, was Draco's. He'd been the first and the only Head Boy of their year, and as long as he preformed his duties well, which he had, there was no reason to suspect that it would ever be otherwise. Until now.

The situation had seemed bad enough when Harry had assumed they'd have to share it; if Dumbledore was transferring the title instead of letting them share it, Harry wasn't sure he and Draco would be able to recover the progress they'd made thus far let alone accomplish something better.

Just yesterday, it had looked like they would be able to manage. _What the fuck am I supposed to do now?_

Harry stood there, waiting for guidance or inspiration. Eventually, he remembered that he needed to get back to the dorm before curfew and pulled out the Maurader's Map. He was plotting the least populated route back to his dorm when he noticed Professor Snape leaving the headmaster's office. Harry had just enough time to clear the map, fold it, and stuff it in his pocket before Snape appeared. He seemed surprised to see Harry and scanned the area subtly, looking for spectators. Harry could have told him that they were the only people in the vicinity, but he didn't.

"Follow me."

Snape led him down the nearby staircase and into a small room near McGonagall's office. He watched as Professor Snape cast Revealing and Privacy spells and a few others that Harry didn't recognize before he turned to face Harry.

"As much as you find the idea repulsive," he said, not unkindly, "you must think about the duties you will require from your _vectigal_." Harry wasn't pleased at the introduction of the topic; he'd almost managed to put that discussion behind him. The idea of ownership made him uncomfortable, more so now that Draco had actually pledged... It was worse than a house-elf, somehow, a thought that made him wish, fervently and not for the first time, that there were a way to ensure that Hermione would never, ever find out that the bond existed. He nodded, hoping Snape would leave it at that.

He didn't. "The Joining, the Training Period, the Ending – the ritual is neatly divided into categories, but in practice it is not so tidy. The bond is more fluid, and there is some overlap. It will be evaluating what it thinks you want or need, without the traditional expectations: you clearly have no need for a diplomat, a steward, or a jester. Having an idea now of what you will expect will make that transition easier for the bond and in your own minds."

Logical as that was, Harry was still uncertain. The life he had with the Dursleys was not what he wanted for anyone. Wouldn't it be easier if... "What if I just don't assign anything?"

"Your experiences growing up can answer that," he replied, and Harry started, "though it's not the cautionary tale you're imagining. You've seen what happens to an idle, indulged, undisciplined boy. What if he's also intelligent, talented, and driven?" Harry tried to imagine a Dudley-Draco hybrid. It should have been hilarious, but he kept seeing Tom Riddle.

"He has to do what you order, but he can _only_ do what you order. You will have to give him some employment. " Snape smiled, nearly. The twist of his mouth was less dark than usual, anyway. "A middle ground _is_ possible."

Harry thought of the household chores at the Weasleys', then nodded in understanding and agreement.

"You may also want to consider the difference between fulfilling responsibilities and executing them." Before Harry could ask him what he meant by that, he changed the topic, confusing Harry further. "You'll need to look over the records for hidden traps, though that's far less likely than if Lucius Malfoy had prepared them." Harry had no idea what he was expected to be looking for nor how to identify it if it existed, something his professor evidently recognized.

"Bring the records with you on Tuesday, and—" He narrowed his eyes. "Please tell me you were not planning to walk through the halls of Hogwarts with Draco Malfoy's financial statement in plain sight."

Harry looked down at the satchel, which he'd forgotten he was holding, then, face flushing, back to Snape. "Can it be shrunk?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Snape sighed and performed the necessary spell. "Keep that out of sight. Aside from Tuesday's meeting, I don't want to see it until Saturday," he said shortly.

Grateful to have been let off so easily, Harry nodded. It would be needed on Saturday since the adoption would yield guardianship of inheritance as well as custody, and the satchel would be symbolic of the transfer... almost entirely symbolic, in Draco's case, since the authority of the _dominus_ would take precedence. Harry tried to imagine over-ruling the man in front of him and had a small coughing fit as he tried to swallow a snort.

Once he was calm, he asked Professor Snape to keep it safe until then, since Harry wouldn't need it otherwise, not if they would be going over it together on Tuesday.

"All not as well as it seems in the Gryffindor dorms?"

"Just the opposite, actually; it will look odd if I suddenly have something locked up."

"How singularly lacking in imagination this generation of Gryffindors must be."

Harry couldn't think of an answer to that which wouldn't get him into further trouble and was going to leave when Snape called him back.

"There's one more thing."

* * *

Severus was apprehensive about telling Potter that he would be speaking with the head of Gryffindor about the Dursley's treatment of him: his relationship with Potter had improved, but it was untested, and he was not certain it would survive a major confrontation. That apprehension was being held firmly in check, however, by whatever trace of his honour remained. They may not have been related by blood, but that did not make it any less Severus's responsibility. A Hogwarts student had been mistreated horribly at home, and they had not noticed for years. Had Potter not been forced to learn Occlumency they might never have known.

If Potter took offense to that, so be it.

The only reason he said anything about it at all was that Minerva would be unable to refrain from speaking to Harry afterward, and he would otherwise be unprepared for the discussion.

The boy was just as furious as Severus had expected. He claimed that Severus's intervention was unnecessary, as the events discussed had occurred many years ago, he had survived, and the Dursleys were no longer an issue.

Severus had doubts about that last.

It was a scene reminiscent of their Occlumency lessons a year and a half ago: Potter raged about betrayal, while Snape tried very hard to remain implacable in his calmness, waiting silently until the tirade finished. He then extracted a promise of silence from the boy and explained his reasoning.

He reminded Potter that he had not, in fact, promised not to tell, and that he would be happy to borrow the headmaster's Pensieve if Potter did not believe him. He reminded him, too, that there could be others in the same situation, now or in the future, and that neglecting to take appropriate steps to prevent such cases would be tantamount to collusion.

The 'saving people thing' as Granger had called it, was as useful and ever, and Harry, unsurprisingly, grudgingly conceded the necessity.

What _was_ surprising was Potter's thanks for not keeping the information from him.

It was his martyr complex, more than anything, Severus realized, that made it increasingly difficult to imagine how... anyone... could confuse the boy with James Potter. The latter had been quick to identify a perceived slight and to demand restitution. He would have contacted Rita Skeeter within a month of his arrival in the wizarding world, regardless of the danger to his relatives or even himself. It had been a while since Severus had seen the boy solely as James Potter's brat, and he had come to appreciate that he had, in fact, been hasty in his judgment. Harry Potter was dismissive of rules, impulsive, and audacious – in short, a model Gryffindor. Now, however, Severus knew why.

It was becoming apparent that rather than being protected and indulged, as was the headmaster's usual practice with the Gryffindors, Harry had instead been sacrificed, Slytherin-like, despite his House. Dumbledore was pragmatic enough to recognize that in a war, difficult decisions and sacrifices had to be made, and there were always those who suffered as a result. Snape would not have expected the Saviour of the Wizarding World to be one of those.

Regardless of the obviously conflicting demands, Dumbledore's primary role was as leader of the Order of the Phoenix, a necessity in the face of the Ministry's traditional ineptitude.

That, unsurprisingly, put Minerva in charge of the students; it was a natural assignment, for, despite her stern demeanor, they had always been her priority. The entirety of the wizarding world, the adult world, was secondary, except wherein it touched her students. Or so it had seemed.

It was time to discover exactly how complicit Minerva had been.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall was in her office late Sunday evening when she heard Severus's knock on the door. Like the man himself, it was abrupt, efficient, and unique.

"Good evening, Severus."

"What is the procedure by which students receive their 'Hogwarts letters'?" he asked brusquely.

The request was puzzling even if the lack of salutation and the delivery were not. Albus's health had been fading for several years now, and Severus was the preferred successor for the post of Assistant Headmaster. Traditionally, the post was filled by one of the Heads of House, and even if Severus weren't her first choice on his own merits, Pomona was a disaster when it came to administration, and Filius was far too close to retirement himself. Unfortunately, despite Severus's potential and Minerva's entreaties, so long as he was spying, his unwillingness to accept the position or to prepare for the possibility of assuming it was absolute, and any tasks which provided access to _The Book of Students_, in particular, were taboo.

His expression was darker and even more closed than was usual, so Minerva simply took advantage of the opportunity presented to her to explain her duties.

"Standard procedure for students who are aware of the magical world? I draft the letter and duplicate it, then each of the copies and envelopes is addressed with the name of the intended student using an Intrinsic Identifier Quill keyed to _The Book of Students_ and sent to the owlery. The first-year Muggle-borns are contacted in person, for obvious reasons."

He smirked, and she prepared herself for an arsenal of arguments against his suitability as her successor.

"So you don't see the addresses yourself?"

Puzzled, she replied, "Of course not, Severus." Minerva was curious why he would ask the question. She couldn't remember the last time she'd written the full address on an envelope but was quite positive it had been decades. It was hardly necessary with Self-Addressing Stationery, which was so commonplace that Scrivenshaft's didn't even carry any other kind.

"But the Book keeps a record of the letters that were sent and the address to which they were sent, and updates the changes?"

"Yes, of course."

"Is it possible to see that history?"

"Of course." _Where in the name of Merlin was this going?_ "Severus, what–"

"Bear with me, please, Minerva." That he said 'please' was a good indication of exactly how grave his motivation was. "Can you show me, for instance, Draco Malfoy's mailing history?"

Minerva nodded, retrieving the quill and parchment she would need to display the information. His concern made sense now. Each of the heads of house were, in their own ways, dedicated to the students in their care, but Severus was obsessively so. If something had given him reason to be suspect problems with Draco Malfoy... Minerva had often thought it was a shame that he'd made the choices he did at seventeen. He'd been a bitter, angry youth but hadn't had much opportunity or incentive to grow beyond that. _If he were ever able to forgive himself, he'd be an excellent father_, she thought regretfully as she cast the necessary spell. He grabbed the sheet of parchment from her hand before it had even finished recording, and she continued the thought with amusement, _Though I'd want to be well into my own retirement before his children were students here._

_Draco Malfoy_  
_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Draco Malfoy_  
_Malfoy Manor_  
_Wiltshire_

_Draco Malfoy_  
_L'Hôtel Meurice_  
_Paris, France_

Severus scrutinized the list of three addresses, each repeated with varying frequency. "Why Hogwarts?"he asked, looking up from the parchment.

"The Headmaster uses the same system for internal notices, as do I myself, on occasion."

"Could you show the history of Ronald Weasley?" What Severus would want with one of her students – Ronald Weasley, in particular! – was beyond her ken, but her curiosity had been engaged, and her Animagus form was not inappropriate, so she cast the spell once again.

There were three addresses for Mr. Weasley as well, or nearly.

_Ronald Weasley_  
_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Ronald Weasley_  
_The Burrow_  
_Ottery St. Catchpole_

The third read simply "Ronald Weasley" with no accompanying address and was written in purple ink rather than black.

Before Severus could ask, she explained. "They were at Headquarters by the time the letters were sent. The Headmaster addressed them himself, by hand."

"One other, if you don't mind, Minerva. Harry Potter."

She held her wand over the parchment and quill but before casting the spell. "I _will_ be getting an explanation for this, before you leave the room." It was not a question.

He nodded, and she cast the spell for the third time.

They began exactly as expected:

_Harry Potter_

_Harry Potter_  
_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Harry Potter_  
_The Burrow  
Ottery St. Catchpole_

The volume of parchment being consumed by the spell far surpassed that of the other two boys combined. Even more alarming were the additional addresses that appeared as the spell went back several years:

_Harry Potter_  
_The Smallest Bedroom_  
_4 Privet Drive_  
_Little Whinging_  
_Surrey_

_Harry Potter_  
_The Floor_  
_Hut-on-the-Rock_  
_The Sea_

_Harry Potter_  
_Room 17_  
_Railview Hotel _  
_Cokeworth_

_Harry Potter_  
_The Smallest Bedroom_  
_4 Privet Drive_  
_Little Whinging_  
_Surrey_

_Harry Potter_  
_The Cupboard Under the Stairs_  
_4 Privet Drive_  
_Little Whinging_  
_Surrey_

_Harry Potter_  
_The Cupboard Under the Stairs_  
_4 Privet Drive_  
_Little Whinging_  
_Surrey_

_The Cupboard Under the Stairs_

_The Cupboard Under the Stairs_

_The Cupboard Under the Stairs_

Minerva could feel herself blanching at each new address and the seemingly infinite repetition of the last one, taunting her. At the edge of her consciousness, she heard Severus speaking. Assuming he had asked why Harry's were different, more specific, she said, "The address is where the wizard's magic feels the wizard is comfortable, where he belongs. At the motel, it would make sense that it's a specific room, that is the one which has been let. At home, though, it should be the house. Look–" She pulled out the two previous histories, pointing out the lack of specific room designation in their homes.

She didn't draw his attention to the dichotomy between Draco Malfoy's hotel address and Harry Potter's, as Severus was guaranteed to notice. Once, he would have made a snide remark about Harry's sense of entitlement, but he'd become better about applying his perception or at least keeping his remarks to himself. "In Harry's case, it appears he was excluded from the rest of the building." She stared, horrified, at the last entry for several moments.

"We have to tell Albus." She stood, purposefully, heading for the mantle where she kept the Floo powder. Severus grasped her arm as she passed him, and she turned. "Severus, I know how you feel about him, but–"

"He knows, Minerva."

* * *

Draco was sitting on his bed ostensibly studying but accomplishing little: he was far too worried about the potential repercussions of Harry's spontaneous change to the ritual. _What had he been thinking? Blood magic was not to be trifled with__... the consequences could be catastrophic__!_ It was that lack of understanding of wizarding traditions and traditional magic that was adulterating the wizarding world, and now Draco would be suffering because of a whim, because of ignorance.

He was well on his way to working himself into a right state when he heard a knock on one of the doors in the common room. It was tentative, and Draco knew it wouldn't have been audible if his bedroom door hadn't been open. He hadn't quite been able to bring himself to close it completely, needing some contact with the world beyond his magical connection to Potter — a connection which had been fluctuating madly since the Spondenum, especially for the last half hour or so. Tightening and loosening like a yo-yo, and with every pass he felt nervous and guilty, then determined and frightened; the emotional rebound was nauseating and distracting.

He assumed it was the price for criticism of his _dominus_, and if it was, he could easily see his life devolving into something all to similar to that of Crabbe or Goyle. Having thoughts of his own, fighting for them, wouldn't be worth the effort.

The knock sounded again, and through the space between the door and the frame, Draco saw Granger get up and cross the common room towards the Hufflepuff door. To simplify things in an emergency, their common room had four wizard-space portals, each offering access to and from the common room of one of the houses. Draco stood quickly and quietly to shut his own door completely.

The definition of 'emergency' was relative, unfortunately: the Madley chit was in the midst of a dramatic saga that no one but a third-year Huff would consider interesting let alone an emergency, and she'd been interrupting nightly. Granger had claimed that they'd had a serious discussion the night before, and Madley had _promised_ to leave off, but it seemed she didn't understand the definition of _that_ word, either.

Draco paused when Granger stopped, not in front of the door to the Hufflepuff dorm, but at the door to the hallway. It was rarely used, since students almost always entered from their common rooms, and professors used the fireplace to summon them if they were needed.

As she turned the handle, Draco _knew_ who was behind the door, and he left his door slightly ajar so he could watch.

"Harry?"

Potter's face fell slightly before he anchored on his face the most insincere smile Draco had ever seen. "Hey, Hermione."

"Something you needed?"

"No. I... I was just heading back to the dorm, didn't want to walk alone, and thought I'd see if Ron was still here."

"No, he's left. Are you all right?"

He was looking around her, trying, unsuccessfully, to be discreet about looking into the room behind her. "I'm fine, just tired."

Hermione checked the time (it was nearly curfew). "You can cut through, if you like." It wasn't done often, but Draco was not surprised that she offered, given how out-of-sorts Potter looked.

In fact, he seemed to have forgotten she was there and muttered distractedly, "No... no, that's fine. The walk will clear my head. Thanks, though. 'Night." He left before she could say another word.

Granger stepped forward as though she were going to follow him but stopped, shook her head, and moved to close the door.

Even without the pulsing of the bond, Draco would have known that Potter had been looking for him: his behaviour had been too erratic for anything else. Just out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a pile of papers – the work he'd done on their potions assignment – and he grabbed them as he opened the door wide again.

Granger had settled back with her book on the sofa but looked up when he entered the room.

"I thought I heard Potter," he said in a tone of confusion.

Her reply was impressively casual, "Oh, he just stopped by to see if Ron was still here." If Draco hadn't been eavesdropping, he wouldn't have suspected it had been more than that.

"He was supposed to trade Potions notes. Did he say where he was going when he left?" The most frustrating part of fishing for information one already knows is having to wait for it.

"The dorm, I assume, given that it's close to curfew."

"I'll try to catch him up, then."

She turned back to her book with a strangely smug sort of smile, and Draco headed out after Potter.

Having a built-in tracking spell was handy, even if it was determined to give him a linear route rather than a traversable one. Eventually, he caught sight of his quarry, and mindful of the few students still making their way back to the dorms, he called, "Potter!"

The Gryffindor turned, and through the bond Draco felt a surge of relief.

"You forgot these." The other boy looked perplexed. "Notes for Potions tomorrow. We haven't had a lot of time," he said, leaving the 'especially with everything else that's been going on' unsaid, but Potter rolled his eyes, so Draco assumed he'd understood it anyway, and continued, "but there's no way Professor Snape's going to waste a brewing class. You'll need these." He held out his notes for the potion they were researching.

"Oh, but I don't have mine."

"Most of your life is public knowledge. I have enough of the information I need to get started, you can give me your copies of the rest later."

"Oh. Right." He looked around furtively. "Um..."

"I've quite a few Arithmantic equations in there; are you going to be able to understand them?" he asked leadingly, not as harsh as he could have been.

There was relief again and amusement at remembered frustration, though all Draco _saw_ was chagrin. "Probably not. Would you mind?"

Regretting that they were too far from the Head Boy/Head Girl suite to make it worth going back, Draco gestured towards a nearby empty classroom.

Once the door was closed, Potter cast a series of Locking and Revealing spells and turned to Draco with a rueful half-grin. "People tend to try to eavesdrop on my conversations."

Knowing that he was mostly teasing, Draco chose to answer seriously anyway. What he wanted to do was yell, but he knew he had to tread carefully. He remembered their conversation under the stands, remembered how careful Potter was to speak first, to keep things equal between them. He'd appreciated that and used it as his model. He would apologize first and would listen to his explanation graciously and, hopefully, be able to accept Potter's apology in the same way. "I'm not going to apologize for anything I did that has helped you to take your security more seriously or for doing what was necessary at the time." He paused for any sign of condemnation. There wasn't any. "But I will say I am sorry that my actions have made this," he gestured between them, "more difficult."

"That's fair." Draco sensed approval, and it was a heady feeling. So much so that when Harry shuffled awkwardly, Draco gave him an opening. "Something you wanted?"

"Sort of, yeah." Harry exhaled deeply, running his hand through his hair, but when he continued, he spoke confidently. "I know the 'Training Period' doesn't start until after the Joining, but I have a duty – two, actually – that I'd like you to assume as soon as possible."

That was _not_ what he'd expected. _That didn't take long_, he thought, more bitterly than he would have liked, given the position he was in. But this had been his choice. He could do this. There was humour vibrating through the bond, and it didn't feel malicious, but Draco restricted his response to a nod, not quite trusting his voice.

"It's up to you. But I absolutely refuse to be Head Boy, and I'm certainly not going to play Seeker for Slytherin. So I'd like you to continue to do those, please. If you want to."

Draco stared at the badges extended in Harry's hand but couldn't bring himself to reach out and take them. His heart had nearly broken when his godfather had taken them.

Despite rumours that Lucius Malfoy had bought his position on the team, he'd _earned_ it. The team brooms had been purchased after choosing him, not in exchange for it. He'd known Potter wouldn't take the position himself, so there was a slight chance that he might let Draco continue to play, but knowing, too, that he was Potter's primary competition, he hadn't held out much hope.

The Head Boy badge, on the other hand, he'd assumed was lost to him. Given how hard he'd worked last year to counter the damage he'd done as a member of the Inquisitorial Squad, he'd earned that badge as well. That a third-year Hufflepuff came to him with best-friend crises was proof of that.

"Draco?" Harry sounded concerned.

He realized he was still staring at the badges in Harry's out-stretched hand. "But–"

"They're yours, Draco."


	12. Refracted

_All rights to the world of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling and a number of very large corporations, none of which is me, and I do not intend to make any money whatsoever from this endeavour._

_Particular thanks must be given to the lovely Phoenix Writing for taking time out of her insanely chaotic schedule to help make this a much better story in both style and content. Any mistakes which remain are, indubitably, my own._

_Additional notes are available before the prologue._  
_  
Constructive criticism is always very much appreciated._

_Please accept my *profound* apologies for the ridiculously long delay; I hope you enjoy._

Originally posted 13 June '10; updated 10 November '11 (scene added)

* * *

**Refracted**

_"They're yours, Draco."_

Draco stared in stunned disbelief, trying to process beyond the overwhelming waves of light and sound roaring around him.

It took him an embarrassingly long time to understand what Potter was offering, and longer still to calculate the implications of it. Once he had, the decision to refuse was... not _easy_, but... straightforward. Being Head Boy wouldn't be worth it if he was going to be simply a puppet.

The titles were still technically Potter's, and they always would be, giving him the authority to override Draco anytime he wanted. Draco imagined Potter countering his decisions in the Great Hall, prefect meetings with Potter present and Draco having to check with him before every vote, or being expected to follow Granger's lead regardless of whether or not her ideas took Slytherin sensibilities into account. Draco didn't think he could do it, and he said as much.

"Thank you, but...," he hesitated, choosing his words carefully, "if you're giving me the choice... I'd rather not." The look of surprise on Potter's face was almost funny, and it helped to ease the lump in his throat. "It wouldn't be the same if I were only there as..." _a pity post_ "...a figurehead." It helped, a bit, that Draco was handing the badges back to Potter himself, not because the ritual demanded it, but because Draco chose to do so.

"No, that's not— Draco, I'm— I mean I know I'd have the right, but I _won't_. I haven't agreed with everything you've done so far as Head Boy this year," Harry said, seriously, "but I can't think of a single thing that I would have pulled rank over. Are you planning to suddenly come over all Inquisitorial Squad now?"

Numbly, Draco shook his head.

"Then I don't foresee a problem. I'll back you and your decisions if necessary, but I won't have anything to do with the position otherwise. And I'll make that clear to anyone who suggests otherwise, now _or_ later."

Strange as it seemed, Draco believed him. It helped that he'd felt Harry's sincerity through the bond.

* * *

Not much later, Draco followed Potter as they left the classroom. Still fighting for the ability to think through waves of disbelief, he pulled the door closed tightly behind him, concentrating on the solid feel of the doorknob until the decreasing volume of Potter's footsteps caught his attention.

"Where are you going?"

Already several feet down the hall, Potter turned back, his brow wrinkled in confusion, "My dorm?"

"It's after curfew." Potter wasn't a Prefect, so it would be loss of points or detention if he were caught wandering the halls, and Draco knew the sixth-year Slytherin Prefects were on duty.

"Oh. Right." He flushed slightly. "I usually don't have to worry about that."

His response made Draco wonder exactly how often he used the cloak to wander after hours, but it wasn't the place to ask, no matter how deserted the hallway seemed.

"You can Floo from my rooms."

Potter nodded and fell quietly in step, for which Draco was grateful twice over: it was not an uncomfortable silence, and Draco appreciated the time to think.

About to smooth his palm down the front his robes, he caught himself mid-motion and jammed loosely-clenched fists in his pockets. Over the summer, he'd used the gesture to draw attention to his Head Boy badge, but it was a habit his mother had ensured was short-lived: Malfoys had no need to gloat in such an obvious manner. Now, he simply wanted to reassure himself that it was still there.

Consumed by his thoughts, he would have walked past his own door if Potter hadn't stopped in front of it.

Granger had cleared out of their common room, Draco noted, though he could still see a crack of light through the not-quite-closed bedroom door next to his own. The temptation to simply wave Potter to the Gryffindor door and hope he forgot that Draco still had his Invisibility cloak was great, but it was overshadowed by another emotion, one that Draco suspected was bond-induced guilt, or possibly a sense of fair play. "I'll get your cloak," he said, crossing to his room.

Potter chuckled, softly enough that Draco wouldn't have heard it had the other boy not followed him into the bedroom. Draco looked at him inquiringly.

"I'd expected you to 'forget' about it until I asked for it."

It was said without malice, and through the bond Draco felt nothing but rueful humour, so he grinned in reply. "I thought about it," he confessed with a small laugh.

"Truth outs, then — the real reason you're doing this is to get your hands on my cloak."

"Yes, that's it. No other benefits at all." He looked at Potter consideringly for a moment, then, mindful of Granger in the other room, Draco closed the door.

Draco felt the bond twist with regret in response, and he had to admit he, too, was disappointed at the loss. Those moments of shared levity were unexpected, precious, and rare. They were growing more frequent, however, and he had a tentative faith that trend would continue. Given that, and the fact that during the walk, he'd recovered a substantial portion of his equilibrium and remembered the topics they hadn't discussed in the classroom, he felt safe in directing the conversation to more serious matters. Besides, he _needed_ an answer. "You know why I'm doing this. And you know that I was comfortable with the original parameters. Why would you risk that by introducing unnecessary Blood magic?"

In the silence that settled after he'd finished, he realized his words had become more of a reprimand than a request for information. Fortunately, Potter didn't take offence, but the look he received was enough to remind him that while Harry was more tolerant than Lucius had been, he also held far more power over Draco. Learning to control his tongue would be necessary, and it would have to be done quickly.

In light of that, Draco was surprised when Potter began to explain the reasoning behind his actions, and even more so by the relief that explanation inspired. He claimed his intention had been to protect Draco.

Draco knew that he had to be wary of at least a certain amount of spin, but that Harry mentioned it at all meant he'd at least considered it, if only secondarily. There were many ways he could have demanded the ritual be adapted to guarantee greater power from the bond; that he chose one that was less certain but safer and of potential benefit for his bonded strengthened Draco's conviction that choosing Harry had been the right decision.

Harry hadn't done it recklessly or accidentally either, paying at least some attention to magical theory, and the reasoning behind his decision seemed sound. Harry even offered to bring Draco the text in question so he could check examine it himself, though Draco didn't know what he would discover that Severus hadn't.

And that was the most surprising discovery of all: Severus _knew_.

Draco nodded his thanks, but he wasn't sure he could reply verbally on that topic. "I'll get your cloak," he said instead and headed to the wardrobe, where he could hide his face long enough to compose himself.

He understood why Potter couldn't have discussed his theory with him earlier, he really did. Potter couldn't be seen with Draco, not without a legitimate excuse, and even then not too often. Their relationship had evolved from the hostile adversaries they'd been in years previous, but they weren't mates either. _That_ wouldn't be politically prudent of either of them, even if they'd wanted to attempt it. Not without a guarantee as inalienable as the bond, at least, and in light of the circumstances surrounding their bond, it was even more dangerous: Voldemort was not expecting a Malfoy-Potter alliance, but he had to have instructed his spies to be watching for odd behaviour from either of them.

But Snape was his Head of House. Surely _he_ could have found _some_ time to warn him of what Harry intended to do.

Severus had seemed so concerned — stiflingly so — at lunch, pressuring him to pledge earlier. Since Draco had made his decision clear, the discussion had done little more than draw attention to the pain Draco was feeling. Eventually, Draco had snapped, demanding that Snape stay out of Draco's life.

He felt marginally bad about that: Snape had Silenced their conversation so it hadn't been public, but it _was_ the Head of Slytherin House he'd been disrespecting — and in the Great Hall.

Based on Potter's recounting, however, he and Snape must have spoken immediately after the incident, and it had been Potter who had convinced him that _more_ unknown, borderline Dark magic was a good idea. Following that train of thought would only make it more difficult to speak calmly to Potter, so Draco pushed aside his bitterness and turned from the wardrobe with the cloak in hand.

He found Potter examining Snape's spellscar balm.

In their initial planning stages, his godfather had assured him that it would be possible to hide the spellscar temporarily, an assertion Draco had been hesitant to accept. Closely related to curse scars, spellscars were designed to resist concealment. Severus claimed to know of a potion, brewed with the memory magic that formed the basis of Secret Keeper spell, which would keep the mark hidden to anyone who did not know for certain that it was there, and what exactly 'it' was. Any doubt at all, and even the most dedicated examination would fail to reveal anything. It would be useless on Potter's lightning bolt scar, for example, as everyone knew about it, but no one spying on Draco could be certain he'd already pledged. In all likelihood, they wouldn't have been told enough to have even concrete suspicions, and looking for simply a 'mark' or 'scar' wouldn't be enough to counter the potion.

Now Draco had realized that it must have been developed by Severus himself in his capacity as spy, certainly as a disloyal Death Eater. Draco would have heard of it otherwise: it would be too valuable to Voldemort's followers.

Draco offered Potter some of the balm as a means of making amends for the thoughts he'd had, even if the other boy wasn't aware of the necessity of it.

"Thanks, but he gave me some earlier."

Draco swallowed the returning bitterness of insult added to injury; Severus had sent a house elf to deliver the potion to Draco's room.

Potter was absorbed with examining the container from all angles, as though there were secrets to be gleaned if he could only find them, and he didn't notice Draco's reaction. "You have to wonder why he bothered to make it, given the danger. Especially since he can't even use it himself."

Draco made a noncommittal noise in response.

"It's odd to imagine Professor Snape as your father." Potter looked up, grinning. "Will you call him Dad, do you think?"

Draco shrugged awkwardly and reversed the question. "What will you call Remus?"

"I don't know." Potter put the balm down with careful precision. "He's definitely the 'dad' type, but that's how we've always referred to— to James Potter. But I can't see calling Remus something as formal as 'Father.'" He watched Draco carefully for a reaction, and through the bond Draco felt humour again, coloured this time with tension and a hint of rebellion.

Putting aside the remnants of his earlier reactions, he assured Harry that he wasn't so fragile that he couldn't handle a passing reference to his past when it was obviously done teasingly and replied lightly, "I can assure you he's definitely more of a 'Dad' than a 'Father.' Severus is more the 'Father' type, and I don't think I want another of those." He shrugged again "Maybe I'll come up with something else entirely."

"Like 'Pop,'" Harry snickered, and Draco nearly choked.

"I thought we were doing this to _avoid _scenarios that would get me killed."

Harry laughed, and it was unlike anything Draco had ever felt. The emotions coursing through the bond notwithstanding.

* * *

At breakfast Monday morning, Professor McGonagall collected the names of the Gryffindor students who were staying at the school for the holidays.

As she neared where he was sitting, Harry realized he didn't know whether he was supposed to sign it or not. He'd told the Weasleys and Hermione that he would be staying at school and wouldn't be able to join them at the Burrow for Bill and Fleur's wedding, but that was before... Well, Before.

When asked, Harry signed. Given the reason for the change, it seemed safer. Either way, Dumbledore would know his travel plans before he did, so it would make little difference.

It was strange not to be planning to spend Christmas with his friends, especially Ron. They'd spent Christmas separately last year, of course, but they'd expected to be together until Harry ended up in the hospital wing. This year, though, Ron and Hermione would be spending the holidays with Ron's family, while Harry... would be spending Christmas with his _own_ family. Maybe not a family he'd been born to, or one he'd been raised with, or even one he was comfortable with, but people he would belong with, properly, regardless of how they'd gotten to that point. They wouldn't have traditions or shared holiday experiences, but they would be able to create them.

He was still revelling in those realizations when he was distracted by the oddest feeling. It was sharp and cold, similar to the feeling of approaching Dementors, but focussed rather than all encompassing. More than anything else, it felt _wrong_, and Harry knew it originated with the bond.

It felt as though it were tugging at him, and when he looked in the direction it seemed to be urging him, he wasn't surprised to see Draco.

He was standing to leave as Professor Snape neared his place at the table. Unlike the previous day, there was nothing to note in their exchange — except, perhaps, the brevity of it. Draco spoke to his Head of House, but only to excuse himself before heading towards the door. As far as Harry could tell, there was nothing that should have caused the bond to be reacting the way it was.

Harry tried to extract himself from his housemates discreetly but quickly enough to catch Draco in the hall, but in the time it took Harry to reach the stairs, the other boy was nowhere to be found.

Harry looked around in confusion: he should have been able to hear Draco's footsteps on the stone floor still, even if he couldn't see him.

It was probably a good thing, however, that he _hadn't_ found Draco since Hermione exited the Great Hall close on his heels. She stopped abruptly, surprised to see him just standing there.

"Harry!" She peered around the entrance hall, looking much as he must have only moments ago. "Whe—why are you just standing here?" He didn't have a ready response, but she didn't wait for one. "We'll be late for class," she said, tugging him towards the staircase.

Given that McGonagall was still in the Great Hall and that they had Transfiguration first period, Harry didn't think that was likely, but he was grateful for the excuse to avoid answering and followed her up to the classroom.

As he'd expected, they arrived before anyone else, including the professor, and Harry quickly realized that all he'd done was give Hermione at least a few moments alone with him. Unsurprisingly, she took advantage of the opportunity to speak with him privately.

"Are you alright? You seemed... distracted at breakfast," she said hesitantly.

"Fine." Her steady gaze didn't waver, and he felt compelled to explain his distraction. "I was just thinking about Christmas."

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us to the Burrow? Or I could stay here, if you'd rather not... be alone." She spoke softly and carefully, and Harry hurt all the more for that. It was difficult enough to deal with her pity when he legitimately deserved it; it was far worse when he already felt like a fraud.

He tried to think something he could say that would convince her not to offer again. It would be just his luck that she'd try to surprise him by staying or returning early, and he wouldn't even be here himself.

He hadn't managed more than "I'll be_ fine_, I promise" before Professor McGonagall entered the classroom. Her eyes narrowed, and, Harry was half afraid she'd mention her meeting with Snape despite Hermione's presence. Before she had the chance, however, Michael Corner entered the classroom and headed directly for her, asking questions about the supplementary reading. That turned into a discussion that Hermione couldn't resist and — much to Harry's relief — kept them occupied until it was time for class to begin. When Ron slid into his seat with a few minutes to spare, he, too, asked if there was something bothering Harry but let it go when Harry assured him there wasn't.

It was then that he noticed that the bond had settled to something he would have described as a nagging but manageable itch, if he'd felt it on or under his skin rather than the area an inch or so beyond it.

Between that and the events of the day before, not to mention his certainty that McGonagall would want to speak with him about her meeting with Snape, there wasn't much chance Harry would be able to focus in class. His classmates probably assumed his lack of attention was the reason McGonagall asked him to remain behind, but Harry knew better.

He was grateful for the warning Professor Snape had given him — it was more than he usually got. He'd have been ready to crawl out of his skin, wondering what that look from her meant, otherwise.

He did wonder about the expression that was on his own face, when Hermione and Ron filed out with sympathetic glances and, in Ron's case, an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

Professor McGonagall stared at him assessingly for several moments. "One of the other teachers on staff came to me with some disturbing information about your family situation, Mr. Potter. Is it true?"

Not knowing specifically what Snape had told her, he couldn't really answer that, and he didn't want to tell her something she didn't already know, so he shrugged. He wouldn't be able to get away with such an impolite response usually, but if she wanted more, she'd have to ask more specific questions.

Unsurprisingly, she did, and they were basic enough that Harry assumed whatever Snape had told her couldn't have included much in the way of particulars. His specific circumstances would be irrelevant to future cases, which was the excuse she was using to justify the questioning, so he brushed off as much as he could.

It was when she asked, with more exasperation that Harry felt was warranted, _why_ he hadn't told anyone that Harry lost the tenuous grasp he had on his temper. "I made it clear that I didn't want to go back; Professor Dumbledore made it clear it was necessary. Without physical evidence of abuse, there was nothing I could have said that would have made a difference." Phrased that way, she could infer that he believed that physical evidence would have been enough to change the Headmaster's mind. He didn't.

Professor McGonagall looked like she wanted to contradict even that much but couldn't bring herself to lie.

"So what would have been the point of telling anyone? If I kept my mouth shut and did what I was told, I got to spend part of my summer at the Burrow. Usually. Away from the Dursleys at least."

Surprisingly, she didn't admonish him for his tone. "I should have suspected, of course," she murmured sympathetically. When she continued, it was as though she were speaking only to herself. "I knew from the beginning that they were the wrong sort, but Albus was so insistent that they were your only suitable relations, no matter how much—" She seemed to remember he was there and cut herself off.

She nodded once, and continued in her usual no-nonsense manner. "I am sorry, Mr. Potter, that you were left with those people and that our protections were insufficient."

She let him go not long after that, and Harry was grateful she was his Head of House. Anyone but the practical, private McGonagall would have tried for much more detail, and he knew he wouldn't have gotten off nearly as lightly. In exchange, of course, he wasn't able to ask what she'd meant when she'd said 'only _suitable_ relations.' That suggested that he had unsuitable ones, and somehow Harry didn't think she'd meant Sirius. She'd probably even let it slip deliberately, just so he would ask.

Either way, Harry's curiosity would have to remain unabated, at least for a while.

He could ask Professor Dumbledore, of course, but knowing the Headmaster's reticence to share details and that he was responsible for Harry being forced to stay with the Dursleys, it would be difficult. Harry wasn't ready for that sort of confrontation, not after he'd already been subjected to another discussion about the Dursleys in less than a week.

Needless to say, he was not in the best of moods when he made his way to Dumbledore's office for his weekly strategy session.

"Harry, my boy, come in."

They usually used the seating area on the far side of the headmaster's office for their strategy sessions, but Professor Dumbledore called to him from behind the desk and waved him into a chair opposite. It seemed less comfortable than usual, and as the conversation progressed, Harry began to suspect that it was neither his imagination nor coincidence.

"Rather than continue from where we left off last week, I thought this time would be better used to discuss any questions or concerns you may have about the upcoming stages of the rituals." Dumbledore stared gravely over his glasses at Harry. "Changes of the sort you introduced yesterday in deciding to balance the use of Blood magic within the ritual, while laudable and likely to be beneficial in this case, are not to be undertaken lightly nor without consultation and the proper precautions."

Harry was going to correct him, but Dumbledore held up his hand. "No matter how much research you've done, Harry, castings of this magnitude and Blood magic generally are undertaken with great risk. In this case, especially, given that others will be affected. You have a responsibility to Draco as well as yourself to speak with an adult, no matter how infrequently you unwilling or unable to do so in the past." His tone was sharper than usual, but it was tempered by something that looked like it might be hurt. "That is what teachers are for... and, I dare say, parents."

Harry hung his head, but it was more to hide his own resentment than out of any real sense of remorse. If Dumbledore was hurt that he hadn't been consulted, Harry didn't particularly care: having just been reminded about why he'd been sentenced to the Dursley's and led to believe there might have been an alternative, he was not going to confide in someone as inflexible and arbitrary as the Headmaster.

He noticed there had been no mention of Professor Snape in the reprimand. Of course, Dumbledore probably had assumed that Snape, being a spy, was better able to hide his emotions but was equally surprised. Regardless, however preposterous it would have been even a year ago, surely Dumbledore had noticed how much better Harry and Professor Snape worked together now.

Even if he had considered discussing his theory with Remus or Dumbledore, he wouldn't have.

He needed someone he was certain had experience with Dark magic, not someone who would scoff simply because it was Dark. Even Snape had been concerned enough about his reputation to hesitate; he could just imagine the reactions of the others. He might have risked it to speak with Remus, if he'd been able to access to a secure means of communication, but he hadn't had such a thing.

Besides which, if Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy (even if the latter had only been consulted after the fact), two wizards who _were_ familiar with Darker magics, if they were of the opinion that Harry's theory had been right and was likely to help, Harry was confident that he had made the right decision.

Harry continued to sulk silently, paying only superficial attention as Dumbledore began his review. He would have felt guilty about that, but he himself had very little to do in the next stage of _Fidelitās_ _Dominō_. It would be emotional for Draco and difficult for both he and Snape, but Harry was needed only to act as witness, really.

Between the second and third castings, the vectigal's family was expected to pledge their support for the vectigal and his chosen. With Andromeda Tonks having been officially disowned, Draco didn't have an abundance of willing relatives available — he had, in fact, only the bare minimum — so the pledges would have to be carefully scheduled to balance within the allotted time. Tonks, as the representative of the Blacks acting as his Steadfast, would pledge first, before the adoption, since they'd decided that a father's pledge would be more valuable than a godfather's.

That was one of the major points buried in the minutiae of the scheduling and other details that Harry had tried very hard and had even somewhat managed to avoid thinking about: as Draco's father, Snape would have to swear fealty to Harry.

As strange and uncomfortable as the entire idea was generally, it was unbelievably so when it was Snape and happening now. His professor had finally begun to see Harry as something other than James Potter's son (most of the time, anyway), and their relationship was finally... respectful or something close enough to it for Harry to appreciate, even if he didn't quite understand it.

It wasn't all unicorns and puffskeins, but it was manageable.

No one could prompt Harry to obstinacy like Snape, that hadn't changed. Sometimes he couldn't even explain why he felt the need to argue, just that it was Snape seemed to be enough. Regardless, while it certainly couldn't be said that Snape was patient with his fits and sulks, he _did_ let Harry apologize for them afterwards. And between Occlumency and conversations like the one they'd had about the Dursleys, he knew more about Harry than anybody.

That made their already indefinable relationship awkward enough. Spending the rest of the year as a student who technically outranked his teacher would be so much worse. He knew there must be cases — princes or other aristocracy, for example — where it happened, and people managed, but Harry thought it would make him very uncomfortable.

He couldn't imagine how much more difficult it would be for Snape as the teacher who by rights would be expected to defer to a student.

Worse still, Harry was James Potter's son. Status and the memory of the torment Snape had suffered as a student were so important to him still; that he'd have to pledge himself to a Maurader's child would make the indignity that much worse.

Not to mention that it was _Snape_, and while he may have improved one on one, he was still a bastard in the classroom, especially to the Gryffindors. If he was forced to yield to Harry Potter of all people...

Harry had to hope it wouldn't destroy the improved relations with Slytherin. It would be just his luck to save Draco and lose the rest of the house.

He would have to talk to Snape — and to Tonks for that matter — to make sure they would be okay.

"Harry?" It was the concern in the Headmaster's voice was what caught his attention, more than the sound of his name. "If you are at all hesitant or have questions, I urge you to speak up."

"Can I speak with Tonks before? Would that affect the pledging?" It occurred to him that contact between the dominus and the vectigal's family, particularly discussing this topic might have a negative influence.

Dumbledore looked surprised then pleased by the request and smiled benevolently. "Of course, Harry. We don't want to draw undue attention, so she won't be able to visit the castle earlier than Thursday, but I will ask her to arrive in time for you to speak with her after your last class.

That would leave no time at all if she wasn't willing, which might have been the point, but given the scarcity of options, if she wasn't, more time wouldn't be much help. Hopefully it would be time enough to make sure that things wouldn't be too weird.

To Harry's relief, they moved on to a discussion about the requirements of the adoption, which were far more straightforward.

The most complicated part of it had been the scheduling, given the number of factors they had to consider, though everyone had agreed that the adoption should be treated as though it were part of the _Fidelitās_ _Dominō_ ritual and anchored on a moon phase.

The full moon was determined to be ideal since the demands of the adoption ceremony on the participants were almost entirely emotional, which would circumvent the complications wrought by Remus being unable to cast in 'werewolf' form.

They'd chosen Saturday, despite it being — for reasons Harry hadn't bothered to follow — the weaker anchoring position. The stronger was not until Sunday, but by performing the adoption on Draco's birthday, as soon as both of them could choose to do so, they hoped to minimize as much as possible the impact of the weeks of the ritual in which Harry and Draco had already spent unequal in status.

By the same token, acknowledging the _Fidelitās_ _Dominō _as primary motivation for the adoption and placing it in a ritually significant position would — hopefully — counter any weakening of the adoption bond which might result from any suggestion of coercion.

Since this was entirely review, and Harry'd had no interest in the details the first time, it was unsurprising that his attention wandered, and he was hardpressed to hide a start as he realized something that should have been obvious. Birthdays meant birthday _presents_.

_What in the name of Merlin does Harry Potter get Draco Malfoy as a birthday gift?_

The most obvious possibility, something Quidditch-related, could be misconstrued as Harry thinking Draco needed help, which was not an impression he wanted to foster. Unfortunately, Harry was having trouble coming up with alternate ideas.

Just for a second, he tried to imagine going to Ron or Hermione for help and nearly choked trying to stifle a cough.

None of the birthday gifts he himself had received suggested possibilities. Neither the book he'd received from Ron (_Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches)_ nor the Sneakoscope from Hermione would be at all suitable.

Remus had given Harry Sirus's watch for for his seventeenth birthday, but any sort of time piece was also out of the question. Remus had explained that it was a traditional gift for a wizard's coming of Age, which was definitely not the sort of tone he wanted in this situation.

That last _did_ give him the idea to see what he could find out about traditional father/son gifts.

Knowing how steeped in tradition the wizarding world was, it would be strange if there weren't. Even Muggles had traditional gifts, be they as small as the Satsuma in the toe of a Christmas stocking (which Dudley had unfailingly thrown at Harry's head on Christmas morning).

Christmas gifts would be necessary, too, for Draco and for Snape, and Harry was equally short on ideas for those gifts as well. He had a gift for Remus, of course, but a gift for a godfather and one for a father were very different things.

Harry returned his attention to the present to find the desk piled in paperwork and the headmaster staring at him intently. "Everything alright, Harry?"

He nodded.

"Then we'll get straight to the paperwork." The older man leaned back in his chair. "It is possible to perform the adoption spell without the Ministry's involvement — and, indeed, is how adult reversion adoptions are usually performed. However, that often results in a lower level of commitment, particularly in cases when one or more participants are Muggleborn or -raised. The status of fosterling, for example, or apprentice would not be sufficient to satisfy the requirements of _Fidelitās_ _Dominō_."

"Before the Ministry will recognize an adoption officially, adherence to certain protocols must be observed. Usually that includes a lengthy investigation by an adjunct office, though the Minister for Magic or Senior member of the Wizengamut may approve an application if expediency is necessary. In every case, however, the paperwork must be completed: it is the hallmark of a civilized society." His smile was a bit forced as he invited Harry to share the humour.

Harry was too worried to laugh. "What about Voldemort supporters who've infiltrated the Ministry?" He knew they hadn't all been cleared out.

"I'll simply forget to file it for a week or two." This time, the twinkle was much more natural.

The first form Harry was given was an official Request for Adoption. It had three parts — multiple choice, short and long answers — designed to make sure he'd considered the ramifications. "You'll need to bring it, completed, on Saturday."

The next stack of parchment was not nearly as thick, but it was similar enough to those he'd seen yesterday — the Gringott's seal was rather unmistakeable — that Harry knew he was being presented with another financial statement.

This time, it was Remus's. It was necessary documentation for filing the adoption, apparently.

"One of the Ministry's requirements is that petitioners confirm their financial stability before adoption. You must testify to its veracity, since you are, for all intents and purposes, his employer." Harry didn't really think of it that way, but it was technically true, especially since the work Remus did for Dumbledore wasn't exactly documented.

He picked up the top most parchment, which was a letter detailing the reasons for Remus's desire to adopt. He was careful not to mention Harry by name in his answers, just in case it fell into the wrong hands, but it would be obvious to anyone who actually knew either of them.

Harry rolled his eyes at the section explaining that lodging was included in his salary; that his employer had given permission to house his dependents, including a child; and that his employer was aware of Remus's werewolf status and any abnormalities of the child in question.

He skipped reading the rest, including the financial statement, and signed where indicated.

The forms _did_ remind Harry that he had access to the Black heirlooms and that there might be something amongst them that Draco would like for his birthday. He'd have to talk to Remus about the idea — both to find out if there would be problems with a dominus giving a vectigal a gift from the latter's own family line and because with his greater familiarity with the estate, he might be able to suggest something appropriate.

That would give him time to think of another gift for Christmas.

Once they'd finished the paperwork, there wasn't enough time to make resuming their usual studies worthwhile, so Professor Dumbledore sent him off early. In addition to adding legitimacy to their need for a Saturday session, Harry would Floo from Dumbledore's office, and it gave Harry enough time to catch Professor Snape in the dungeons before lunch. He wove his way through the exiting students - second years, he thought, but not Gryffindor, so he couldn't be certain. He made sure he spoke before Snape could demand to know what he wanted. "You asked to see me, sir?"

"Hardly a question, Potter. Why else would you have bothered to detour via my office on your way to the Great Hall? Hurry up and close the door behind you." There was no surprise in his tone or expression, just a typical scowl and an abrupt wave.

Once the door was closed, he raised an expectant eyebrow at Harry. "I wanted to see you?" he asked dryly.

Harry nearly giggled and had a small coughing fit instead. "I think there's a problem with the bond."

Snape's expression lost any hint of humour.

Harry began explaining before the man began yelling. "All of a sudden this morning, I got this incredible sense of... well, _wrong_. It was — not me just this one spot — was cold and... not sharp exactly, but... brittle, maybe, and I knew it was about the bond — Draco. When I looked up, he was exactly where I knew he would be."

"What did the Headmaster say?"

"I, um, forgot to mention it, actually. It had settled, mostly, by the time first period began, I only remembered as I was heading down to the Great Hall." It was almost true.

"Did Draco have a similar reaction?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know."

"Did you ask?" The question was restrained, but somehow that only made it more dangerous.

"I tried but... he left and disappeared before I could catch him."

"What were you doing when the change occurred?"

Again, the tone was less accusatory than Harry would have expected, and he tried to keep the defensiveness out of his tone as well. "Just eating breakfast."

"And Draco?" By now Harry was certain his professor had figured out, or at least suspected, what the cause was, and was making Harry do the same.

"Talking to you." Harry clarified that before Snape thought he was being accused of anything. "It was just before he left."

Professor Snape nodded, then stared at him assessingly. "Why did you decide to host the holidays at headquarters?"

"There wasn't any other choice." It seemed like a change of topic, but Harry was familiar enough with this Slytherin's conversational traps to know that there must be a connection. "There's other properties but... some of them are blood-locked, others — no one's had a chance to check them for traps." Regardless of whether the properties he'd inherited were previously owned by Blacks or Potters, they'd been empty for far too many years to assume they were habitable, even if he could get past the warding.

"Where would you spend the holidays, given the choice?"

"Here." The 'of course' was silent, but he was sure Snape heard it anyway.

"And you signed Professor McGonagall's list?"

Harry nodded impatiently, eager to get to the explanation.

"I suspect doing so had a great deal to do with unsettling the bond." Harry was going to ask why, but Snape's expression suggested he should be able to answer that himself.

Thinking about it, the answer was obvious. "Because I don't want to leave for Christmas, the bond thinks Draco's doing something wrong."

"The bond does not _think_, but I believe that is what is causing your discomfort, yes."

"Will that cause problems? Regardless of how much I want to stay, I _do_ know that Grimmauld Place is the only option we have."

"You said it has since settled?"

"It's not entirely gone, but nearly. It's a manageable itch."

Professor Snape nodded. "Without a compelling reason to stay, that is indeed the best option, no matter how much we all might wish it otherwise. It's a shame your situations aren't reversed."

Harry might have taken offence to that, but it wasn't said maliciously, and, to a certain extent, he even agreed.

* * *

Harry's level of discomfort remained constant during lunch. He'd hoped to signal Draco and speak with him, but there was no sign of him in the Great Hall. Harry even left the Great Hall early in hope of finding him, without luck. He loitered outside the Potions classroom as long as he dared, but eventually, he had to find his seat and pull out his materials. Snape might be less abrasive in how he treated Harry these days, but 'less' was still relative. Draco arrived even later, sliding into his seat just as Professor Snape began lecturing.

"Today, you will be continuing your work on the Animāre Potion. By this point, you should have met with partner to discuss the elements and ingredients you will be using for the base. If you have not yet done so, you may speak with your partner _quietly_once the others have begun brewing." Several students made sounds of surprise — Snape was not normally so forgiving — but Harry was not one of them. He waited for the sting in the tail. "At the expense of ten percent of your final grade."

Several gasps were audible.

"Not that I expect success, even from those of you who have made a token effort: despite this being N.E.W.T. level Potions, I have come to accept that Hogwarts students are lazy. Failure will — it can be hoped — impress upon you the magnitude and severity of the task before you."

As they obtained their ingredients and set up their workstations, tasks that generated enough noise to cover minimal discussion, though it wasn't nearly loud enough for Harry to risk speaking with Draco about the bond. Most of the students took advantage of the opportunity to consult quickly with their partners, but Harry'd actually read Draco's notes and done the preliminary work for his potion – a good thing, too, since Draco seemed intent upon ignoring him.

They were still being watched by spies and by the students generally, and giving Harry a cold shoulder would only help deflect suspicion, but it wasn't a strategy they'd discussed. Harry wondered why Draco was so distant; unless... Had Harry done something to offend him? He thought things had gone well the day before — they'd worked their way through a couple of conversational tangles without drawing much blood — but maybe Draco felt differently. Harry worried about that as he gathered the brewing ingredients he would need, but once he was settled at his work station next to Draco, Harry had more pressing concerns.

The longer he was next to Draco, the more difficulty he had keeping an acceptable distance between them. The bond's solution to resolving the tension from breakfast — or maybe to relieving Harry's worry — seemed to be to decrease their proximity. Feeling as though he were being drawn closer to Draco by a magnet, Harry tried desperately not to fidget and to keep his mind focussed as he prepared ingredients and began assembling his potion.

Harry hoped the bond wouldn't interpret his refusal to move as a rejection of Draco or the bond. he wasn't happy about it, of course, that was due to the necessity of it and the reasons for it, not because the vectigal was Draco, who was having a difficult enough time under the circumstances and shouldn't be blamed for the fact that Harry hated being forced to spend the holidays at Grimmauld Place. His contemplations were interrupted by a low hiss.

"Potter!" Draco whispered sharply, obviously not for the first time. "Pass me the fluxweed, would you?"

"Oh. Yeah, sorry." Harry thought he was prepared, but as soon as their hands touched, the bond spasmed violently. He jerked in reaction, knocking over the small bowl of holly berries and scattering them across the table.

Seemingly unaffected, Draco glared at him and knelt to pick up the ones that rolled onto the floor. Harry watched him closely as he leaned into the aisle that separated them from the next workstation. The other boy was too far away. He needed to keep Draco close. He was too far away.

The shock of the thought was just enough to keep Harry from acting on it, and before Harry lost control of himself entirely, Draco moved back to the floor near Harry's feet. Once he did, the sense of urgency eased, for which Harry was grateful. Unfortunately, Draco's neck was nearly at the height of their work station, not far from where a number of the berries had spilled, and Harry's vision blurred. The trail of bright red berries merged into a solid line, looking far too much like a ribbon. _The_Ribbon. The one that should be around Draco's neck.

Thinking that — _feeling_that — generated a coil of icy fear that was nearly swallowed by self-loathing. He stood, staring at the berries in horror until Draco swept them into their bowl and put it down on the table with a shade more force than necessary and another wordless glare at Harry.

Shaken, Harry returned to chopping mistletoe leaves. That was _not_him. He was not going to let himself be that person. Snape — who was both the most likely to watch for and notice signs that Harry was in danger of abusing his position of power and the most likely to confront Harry if he were — was confident that Harry could resist the temptation. He held that thought for several long, deep breaths.

Harry was _not_going to become the creature from the Nightmare.

Determined, he moved to tip the mistletoe into the cauldron, but Draco caught his hand. "That needs to be crushed, not chopped," he said curtly.

Harry was forced to clamp down on the bond again, _hard_, but the realization of what he almost did gave him the strength to do so. He might not be as adept at potions as Draco, but even he knew that adding chopped mistletoe to a potion containing an infusion of dragon's blood would cause an explosion of sparks.

"What's wrong with everyone today?" Draco asked in exasperation, "Turpin's spending more energy flirting with Boot than brewing, Granger's been so busy sneaking glances over here that she still hasn't added the Blue Lily, and you're trying to get us killed. "

Before Harry could think of an answer he could share, he had one hand on his wand, casting a shield, and the other on Draco, pulling them both down. Some instinct or the bond, perhaps, but whichever it was was _screaming_, and the message was _DANGER!_  
_  
_Wherever it came from, the warning was well-timed, because before Draco could even ask him what he was doing, a cauldron exploded on the other side of the room. To make matters worse, the ensuing spatter triggered an explosion in the cauldron next to it, setting off a chain of explosions around the room.

Draco cast a Bubble-Head Charm on each of them when it became evident that Harry's shield was protecting them from flying ingredients and Potions, but it was being penetrated by unidentifiable fumes.

When the air cleared and they stood to survey the damage, the biggest surprise was that it hadn't been any of the Gryffindor/Slytherin pairs that had triggered the blast: the point of origin had been Mandy Brocklehurst and Susan Bones' cauldron. It wasn't the most spectacular Potions disaster Harry had ever witnessed — Neville would doubtless hold _that_record for years — but it was close.

Unsurprisingly, Snape snapped.

Half the class hadn't had time to neutralize their potions, let alone clear their work spaces and pull out parchment and ink before Snape began to lecture, rapid fire. They scrambled, trying to get caught up, knowing that, while they wouldn't be brewing the potion he was describing until after the break, the lecture would not be repeated, and any imperfectly brewed potions would be graded even more harshly than usual.

Draco knelt as though he were cleaning spill on the floor, a necessary task for those who hadn't shielded as Harry had, and used the cover provided by the desk to set out on the floor a roll of parchment and an automated quill that Harry assumed was set to record truthfully.

* * *

After the afternoon's rather disastrous N.E.W.T. Potions class that _should_ but doubtless wouldn't be enough to impress upon the students the importance of being able to work together — there was a _reason_ for the pairings after all — Severus asked Draco and Harry to remain.

Before Severus could phrase the question diplomatically, Harry blurted, "Did you feel something... odd with the bond this morning?"

"What? You felt something?" Draco wasn't panicking, but it was close.

Harry reached out as though he were going to rest a calming hand on Draco's shoulder, but he aborted the gesture. Severus was reasonably certain that Potter was positioned sufficiently behind Draco that the movement had gone unnoticed. Hopefully.

"I thought something had happened." Harry placed his arms defensively, Snape noted, and spoke quickly—guiltily? "I felt something go off, sort of. Change. Which is why I asked. But everything seems fine now, just something's a bit different."

"It happened during breakfast?"

Harry nodded. "Just before you left the Great Hall."

"I thought it was just me. I hoped it was reacting to the idea of what would happen if I did go home." That defeated look was out of place on his godson, who was usually so confident and optimistic, and it had appeared all too often these last few weeks.

This time, however, Severus's sympathy was limited, since the agonizing could have been avoided if he'd hadn't been so determined to avoid Harry and Severus himself. He kept his opinion to himself, for the moment at least, knowing that it was in the best interest of both boys that they have this conversation without interference.

"Because you always stay, the bond is reacting to the possibility that I might be leaving, isn't it?"

"That's what we thought, too."

"Did Dumbledore think there'd be any lasting damage or effects?'" Draco asked.

Harry dropped his gaze, flustered, defensive. "I didn't mention it."

Draco looked at Harry curiously. Since it was not the time to address Harry's complicated relationship with the Headmaster, Severus interjected, reminding them of the need to be in the Great Hall for dinner.

* * *

_He knew the corridor was dark and long, though the grey shadows that served as light gave no impression of distance._

_There was sound — laughter? — coming from so far away that he couldn't be certain he wasn't imagining it. He persevered, stealthily, as near to silently as he could, hoping to find that elusive prize._

_There were doors, he noticed once his eyes adjusted, on either side of the corridor. Most of them were closed, locked, silent. He didn't waste time trying to get in, knowing that he was no better off alone in an empty room than he was now._

_There was another burst of laughter, closer now, and he ran, mindless of the dangers that might be lurking._

_He stumbled in horror when he recognized the nasal tittering and braying chortles of the Dursleys._

_There was an open door further down, light spilling into the hall, and he knew that was where he would find them. He approached carefully, hoping not to be noticed._

_It didn't matter._

_They weren't paying him the slightest bit of attention. They were all sitting around the kitchen table, Dudley entertaining them with a tale accompanying his words with elaborate pantomiming. He couldn't tell for certain, but Harry thought the story involved his Smeltings stick from the gestures._

_He watched the scene for several moments; there was something wrong with it, he knew, but he couldn't identify what. _

_He slid against the wall to the floor and sat there for a few moments, the shards of laughter shredding his soul._


	13. Through the Mirrors of Perception

_All rights to the world of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling and a number of very large corporations, none of which is me, and I do not intend to make any money whatsoever from this endeavour._

_Particular thanks must be given to Tithenai and, especially, who have helped make this a much better story in both style and content. Any mistakes which remain are, indubitably, my own._

_Additional notes are available before the prologue, and constructive criticism is always very much appreciated._

_A new scene has been added to chapter 12 as well (once it shows an edited date of 10 Nov 2011), so you may want to re-read it, if you haven't already._

Originally posted 10 November 2011

* * *

**Through The Mirrors of Perception**

When Draco cast another Tempus Charm and saw how little time had passed since he'd last checked, he sighed and threw back the covers. He'd take advantage of the few hours he had until he had to get ready for class, he decided, since it had become painfully evident that he wouldn't be getting any real rest tonight. The first part of the evening had been sacrificed to restlessness, augmented by the guilt he felt — both his own and bond-generated — for avoiding Harry. When he had finally fallen asleep, his dreams had been fitful, dark and lonely and disturbing.

_A run might help._It had proven to be an effective method of stress relief. He'd certainly had ample opportunity to evaluate his options this term.

His return to Hogwarts in September had been a mixed blessing. He'd known that sooner or later the Aurors would have to relax their surveillance of the Manor — they did not have unlimited resources, so it was inevitable. When they did, Lucius Malfoy would be able to return home, destroying Draco's sanctuary. It had been a relief when September had arrived before that nightmare had come to pass.

He'd barely returned to school, however, before discovering he'd needed tolearn as much as he could about _Fidelitās_ _Dominō_and any possible avenues of avoiding it — in addition to his heavy course load, his Head Boy and Quidditch duties, and his own extracurricular interests and projects.

He'd exhausted the available resources in both the general and restricted sections of the Hogwarts library in short order, and rather than bemoaning the lack of access to the family texts or endlessly re-reading the books available at the school, he'd devoted himself instead to his own project, fuelled in part by the teasing possibility of freedom — the hope that somehow, If he was successful, he'd have an avenue of escape. That would have been more than worth the effort, the discomfort, and the lack of sleep. Instead, three months at Hogwarts had given him a moderately successful form of stress relief and more stress than any one person should have to endure.

He no longer pretended he could run away, but even without a destination, running was a state in which he was surprisingly comfortable, and the Hogwarts grounds provided ample space for clearing his thoughts. Unfortunately, he had few opportunities to ditch others and find the necessary privacy, but tonight he'd decided it was worth the risk, so he'd crept out of the castle.

It had been a great run, long and full out until he'd caught a trail he didn't recognize. He'd been distracted following it — dangerously stupid, considering he was in the Forbidden Forest. He'd gone further than he'd intended and hadn't realized until too late that he himself was being trailed.

It was a mistake he would not make again, assuming he survived to have the opportunity.

Deep in the forest, Draco was grateful for the nearly full moon as it was the sole source of light available as he tried to keep track of his opponent while he contorted to free his wand. When he'd chosen his hiding spot, he'd severely underestimated the space needed to hold the body of a nearly seventeen year old, even one as slight as he was. To be fair, though, there hadn't been many other options, and it _did_provide enough cover for him to be able to draw his wand, which was all that mattered.

He began casting defensive spells.

Despite magical creatures being one of the few areas of DADA they'd covered thoroughly, the creature was nothing he recognized, and he hadn't any real idea of how to fight it. His predator was huge, at least three times the size of Hagrid, and curses that should have been debilitating seemed to cause only localized discomfort. It was reptilian in appearance, but its body was covered in scales which acted as shields; Draco manageda few lucky hexes that hit under them, but few enough that it was too tricky to rely on as a strategy. He resorted to casting randomly, seeing what did and didn't work, hoping to keep the creature at bay long enough to find a way to defeat it — or at least long enough to escape.

Shortly after adopting that tactic, he discovered that — with the proper motivation — he _could_press himself further back into his hiding space. He was also willing to lay odds that the spray the thing sent at him was venomous.

He distracted the creature temporarily with a Confunding Cloud shield and took the opportunity to scramble awkwardly clear of the brush he'd been hiding under. The ability to move freely had become far more important than the minimal cover he'd had.

_Avada Kedavra_would be the easiest solution to his problem — the illegality of it notwithstanding — but for two things: he hadn't yet managed to cast it successfully, no matter how much Lucius Malfoy had demanded he practice, and even if he could, the residual energy from such a Dark spell would draw all manner of Dark creatures. He was too far into the Forbidden Forest to take that risk.

He'd run too far this time; he could admit that much, at least to himself.

He shot off a Burning hex, if only because it hadn't been tried and it might prove effective. Unfortunately, it proved to be a Very Bad Idea. Heat energized it, and Draco was forced to focus on a sequence of rapid defensive spells for longer than he hoped. Eventually Draco caught it with a combination of frigid water and icy wind that left whatever it was encased in ice, neutralized for the moment. He considered how best to make his way back to the castle, then tucked his wand away: moving quickly had to take precedence. Once there, he'd have to try and identify the creature, in case it would be a danger to the school. Explaining how he knew about it was a different problem. Once he would have just schemed a way to trick Potter into 'finding' it; for obvious reasons, that was no longer a possibility.

It wasn't long before Draco recognized a clearing from a previous excursion in the forest, and he was grateful to learn that he was closer to the castle than he'd thought — he must have turned further south than he'd intended when running from the creature. He was glad of it, since the longer he was out, the greater the likelihood that Hagrid would be awake and on the grounds, and that people would be walking the halls.

He stopped when he reached the tree line; he would be safer on the school grounds if he had his wand accessible.

There was no sign of Hagrid, but given the luck he'd been experiencing recently, he wasn't at all surprised when he came upon Filch's cat within minutes of entering the castle.

Knowing she wouldn't have wandered far from Filch himself and not wanting her to sound an alarm, he turned a corner too quickly and was nearly caught by Professor Sinistra. It was only her complete absorption with the charts and notes she carried that prevented her from seeing him.

Quickly and as silently as he could manage, Draco retreated into the closest window alcove, grateful that it had curtains that he could hide behind and that they weren't completely shut, so he could slip behind them without setting them in motion. He held his breath until she passed, letting out the air slowly and quietly once the sound of her footsteps was barely audible.

When he deemed it safe to leave the shelter of the alcove, he found Mrs. Norris waiting for him. Draco would swear under Veritaserum that the cat smirked at him before turning back the way Draco had come. Racing down the hall, she announced the success of her hunt, wailing in the way Draco had come to associate with Granger's feline menace bringing her a dead mouse.

Draco appreciated being prey as little as Granger appreciated the gifts.

It wasn't far to the door to his room, however, so he risked picking up his pace; the sound of his footsteps would be covered by the echoes of the screeching.

By the time Draco reached his destination, he was exhausted and ready to scream in frustration. Unfortunately, getting into his own room was sometimes the trickiest bit of all. Granger, who seemed to need remarkably little sleep, had caught him returning on several mornings already and nearly caught him on several more. There was a very good chance that she'd be awake and no chance at all that she would believe that he would have gone out looking the way he did presently.

Normally, he would make up an excuse — that he'd been flying or brewing had worked previously and on occasion had even been true — but he'd caught a glimpse of himself reflected in the window of the alcove. It had confirmed he looked at least as sweaty and dishevelled as he felt. He was too knackered to come up with a plausible explanation as to why he hadn't used the Quidditch showers or what he had been brewing that had exploded, so he did what any reasonable wizard in his position would do: he Disillusioned himself before opening the door.

The precautions were prudent, as Granger was not only awake but working at the table in their meeting room. He closed the door as quietly as he could, but she looked up just as he was removing his hand. Draco froze, knowing that it was more difficult to see through a Disillusion Charm when the subject wasn't moving.

She stared blankly at him for a long moment, and Draco was afraid the charm had fallen. She must have simply been deep in chase of a thought, however, because she only smiled a little and wordlessly turned back to her note-taking.

Draco managed to hold in his sigh of relief until he'd cast a Notice-Me-Not Charm on his bedroom door, opened it, and slipped inside. But it was another close call.

Once safely in his room, he leaned against the door and gratefully took several long, deep breaths. If running wasn't just about the only thing keeping him sane, he'd almost be tempted to stop. Because it was, he promised himself he would stay closer to the castle next time and pay more attention to his surroundings. Resolved, he opened his eyes and pushed himself away from the door.

Seeing the Dark Lord's books on his bookcase reminded him that his room was not entirely a refuge, and he would need to force himself to open the books and at least pretend to read them. They _were_spelled, and it wouldn't do to be summoned away from the school early, and his father had already threatened to do just that. Casting a Tempus Charm, he realized it would have to wait, at least a while longer. He would have to start getting ready if he was going to make it to breakfast on time. He was glad the time was a quantitative excuse. It would be too easy to rationalize to a less legitimate argument because he didn't want to know what was in those books. He really didn't.

In the shower, the water pressure was painful as it pounded on his shoulders. It was unusual for him to be so tense even after a run and was indicative of exactly how much strain he was under — though today had been a less restful excursion than usual, by far, unfortunately.

Lacking a proper night's sleep and the peace he usually found after a run would make it more difficult to keep his head when he was challenged by students from other houses and especially by other Slytherins. The latter was an unfortunate consequence of the perception that the son of Lucius Malfoy was "coddling the Mudbloods." Even after several attempts, he couldn't seem to make certain housemates understand that it was one of his duties as Head Boy to be as impartial as possible and to promote unity (two tasks at which his predecessors had failed spectacularly for each of the six years he'd been a student at Hogwarts), and even if that weren't the case, Slytherin was the house with the most to benefit from school unity.

He took pride in being Head Boy — he had been sorted into the house of the ambitious, after all — but he missed the simplicity of his younger years, when he had been playing at politics rather than risking his life because of them; when keeping his temper had been a distant third concern, well behind winning and making sure Harry Potter lost; when the people he cared about and the people he could trust were the same.

In particular, he missed being able to confide in Pansy; she'd been a good friend to him. Unfortunately for Draco, in this particular situation, her best qualities were also the ones that precluded him from doing so: she knew him too well and was too perceptive by half. She'd been suspicious since the beginning of term, so much so that he'd been avoiding her as much as he could. Refusing to confide in her was only exacerbating her curiosity, but no matter how much he valued her perspective, giving in to the temptation to confide in her and try to convert her loyalties would be dangerous — now, at least. It wasn't worth the risk before the holidays, but it might be worth trying to convince Harry and Severus to considering approaching her after the break. She'd be a valuable asset.

Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for Vince and Greg. They'd been fun as children, but he'd grown away from them — mentally, at least, if not physically. Without school and parental intervention, they'd rarely speak now. Crabbe and Goyle Senior had them so scared of Lucius Malfoy that they couldn't comprehend disagreeing with Draco, let alone arguing with him. They'd stopped years ago, and Draco wasn't sure they remembered how.

Without Draco, they would be fodder when they were dragged into the ranks of the Death Eaters, and the Dark Lord was not known to be forgiving of mistakes nor likely to help his followers when they fell into trouble. Knowing it would take even more effort to sufficiently overcome their indoctrination to convince them to switch their loyalties than it would Pansy, Draco tried to protect them as best he could, and, as subtly as possible, he'd encouraged them to spend time with Zabini. Thankfully, they seemed to have followed his advice. They weren't valuable enough on their own that the Dark Lord would try to recover them. He hoped.**  
**  
Blaise had been a friend but not an ally. His parents had been unmarked but supporters of the Dark Lord's cause during his first rise, but since Mr. Zabini's death ten years ago, Blaise's mother had begun distancing herself, and his last four stepfathers had been either neutral or firmly on the opposing side — the most recent had even been Muggleborn. Despite evidence that families were not made of homogeneous individuals, that was enough to make Lucius Malfoy doubt their loyalty, and Draco had been instructed to keep him at a distance. As a result, he wasn't as close to Blaise as he was to his other friends. Of course, if Lucius was right, that was exactly the reason Draco might be tempted to confide in him now, if they were closer.

_There's irony in that_, he thought, picking up Severus's scar balm.

His _father's_ scar balm.

It would take time to think of Severus that way. Draco had spent more time interacting with the older man as a professor than a godfather, and most of this term Draco been trying to learn to accept him as a dominus. He was better suited to that, in many ways; he was certainly more like what Draco expected from a Head of Family than Remus was.

Then again, Draco was better suited to the role of dominus than Harry Potter. It was Draco who was heir to two Ancient and Noble Wizarding Houses, who understood the significance of ritual magic, who understood the importance of power and the need to wield it effectively.

Draco laughed, a dry, sardonic sound that could have been made by his godfather. Of course, under those criteria, Voldemort was equally better suited than Harry. Unbidden, his gaze slid back to the books he'd been given. He was grateful to Harry, he always would be, regardless of how things turned out, but in the privacy of his own room, he decided, he was allowed to resent that gratitude and the need for it. And that a Malfoy had forced a _Malfoy_into the situation.

Mostly, he resented that Slytherins like Voldemort, Fudge, and Lucius propagated the stereotype so effectively that no one would believe the current Slytherins capable of being anything else.

Granger was gone by the time he left his room, and the halls were empty — _of course_, he thought sourly — though it was little wonder, since the halls he was using were not directly between any of the dorms and the Great Hall, and he himself was nearly late. The only person he saw, in fact, was Harry Potter.

Draco was hard-pressed not to react when Harry appeared from the direction of the Owlry staircase, though not because he was surprised. Just the opposite, in fact, the bond had enthusiastically drawn Draco's attention to both Harry's arrival and the fact that he'd slept poorly.

"Draco. Um. Good morning."

"Good morning. Posting a letter?" It was a banal comment to introduce a conversation, and his mother would be disappointed, but Draco was pleased to have found his vocal chords functional.

"Um, yeah. A, uh, a letter to Remus, actually," he replied awkwardly, and Draco knew he needed to change the subject.

"Have you been to breakfast?" It was late enough that it wasn't impossible that he'd already been and gone.

"No, I'm just on my way now. You?" As he asked, Harry seemed to realize the direction Draco was walking made the answer obvious, but Draco nodded anyway.

"I am, but I don't mind waiting, if you want to go ahead."

When Harry and Draco had prepared to leave the Potions classroom for dinner together, Snape had reminded them rather forcefully that they were still under observation and should endeavour to be seen together as little as possible. Walking into the Great Hall together would draw attention, from their observers and from Severus. Neither was prudent.

Harry turned to leave but hadn't taken more than a few steps before walking back to Draco. "Do you know what could have caused a reaction in the bond early this morning?" he asked quietly. "Like it was worried?"

Draco nearly panicked before he realized that a portion of the truth would be explanation enough. "I was out on the grounds; I must have been too close to the Forbidden Forest."

Harry looked like he was going to argue but nodded and left without saying anything else.

Draco leaned against the wall and waited, considering. He should have expected that an attempt on his life wouldn't have gone unnoticed. He would definitely have to be more careful, and not just when he went running.

Harry was still out of sorts and not just because of the change in the bond, but far less so than last night. Yesterday, he'd been sufficiently upset that Draco would have noticed even if the bond _hadn't_been clear on the matter. Harry didn't want to leave Hogwarts.

Draco himself had mixed feelings.

His life was in such upheaval right now that he would prefer the familiar surroundings of Hogwarts — though that was at least partially why it was traditional for the vectigal to follow the dominus to his home. A new country, even a new village would encourage the vectigal's dependency. Of course, had Draco been bound to the Dark Lord, he would have been at Malfoy Manor, and he was horrified when he imagined his childhood haven desecrated by that experience.

Between the court challenge for the Black inheritance and the circumstances of _Fidelitās_ _Dominō_, however, he'd been thinking more about the Black side of his family recently, and he was interested in the Black home. He remembered only vague images from a few visits before his Aunt Walburga had died; it had been dark and gloomy, and he was having difficulty imagining Harry in it.

Of course, once he was there, he wouldn't be able to share what he would learn about the Blacks with his mother. He'd hoped to keep some contact with her; evidently she did not feel the same. Accepting that soured any excitement he'd felt at the thought of staying at the house for the holidays.

Since they'd seen each other on Saturday he'd assumed that she hadn't thought it necessary last week. It was particularly disappointing, as he'd hoped for an explanation as to why she hadn't warned him about his father's plans to trap him in Hogsmeade. It had been a surprising betrayal.

It probably shouldn't have been.

* * *

_Dear Remus,_

_After getting back from Hogsmeade, I realized I'm short a gift – two- well, no, three, really. You can probably guess who they're meant for, and it's a bit short notice. Any suggestions?_

_Gratefully,_  
_Harry_

* * *

Flitwick, as promised, had assigned the topics for their Charms research projects so they could begin working on them before and during the holidays. It was a barbaric practice — Harry had to agree with Ron about that, though he may well have more time than usual for that sort of thing this year.

Requested topics had been granted where possible, and when they weren't, alternates had been randomly assigned; as expected, Harry's Charms topic was uncontested. From her pleased expression, Harry was able to deduce that Hermione had received her first choice as well.

"Wildsmith!" Ron's disgruntled mutter made it equally clear he hadn't.

As there had been several people requesting Bowman Wright, famous for developing the golden snitch, it wasn't altogether surprising. As Ron tossed his assignment dismissively onto the desk, Harry was able to ascertain that Flitwick hadn't specified whether the assigned topic was a first choice or not; that in turn meant that no one needed to know he'd asked for Eustacia Sigismund specifically, which could have been somewhat suspicious under the circumstances.

"What's wrong with Ignatia Wildsmith?" It was a sign of Ron's disappointment that he didn't notice the danger approaching, even in the face of Hermione's helpful tone of warning.

"What did she do, really? Just invented Floo Powder!"

"Ronald, that invention was instrumental in—" Hermione broke off suddenly. "You know what, never mind. I think Lisa's unhappy with her assignment as well." She waved in the direction of Lisa Turpin who was pleading with Padma Patil and looking very close to tears. Ron went off to see about negotiating a trade, and Hermione sighed and shook her head before focusing on Harry.

"You're not complaining; who did you get?"

Harry, grateful she hadn't asked if he'd gotten his first choice, shrugged. "Eustacia Sigismund. It's all the same really."

Hermione's eyes lit up. "Oh! She's done some really interesting work with Unbreakable vows. I came across some references in my research for one of my Arithmancy essays last year." She reached for his parchment, obviously intending to write out an initial book list, something for which Harry would, under most circumstances, be extraordinarily grateful. Now, Harry wished he'd put his assignment directly into his bag; pulling the paper away would be really obvious. It was too much to hope that she wouldn't notice that Draco Malfoy was listed on his assignment as the student in the other section assigned to the same. Her eyes widened before her face cleared of all expression. "You're working with Malfoy." She said neutrally. "Again."

That was not the rumour Harry needed circulating just now. When Harry and Draco had prepared to leave the Potions classroom for dinner together, Snape had reminded them rather forcefully that they were still under observation and should endeavour to be seen together as little as possible. "We won't be 'working' together, just sharing books," he replied, a bit too curtly, as it happened.

Hermione looked concerned. "Are things alright? With Malfoy?"

Harry was careful to keep his comments restricted to expressing fear that Draco would be difficult to share books with, given his busy schedule. "It's hard enough to find him when we need to work on our Potions research; I'm not looking forward to having to coordinate times and locations to exchange books for this assignment as well."

"Oh, honestly," she sighed before phrasing her following remarks as though they were a dare, "Then work together. You can use the Prefects' lounge. Of course, if you don't think it would be _beneficial_enough for the two of you to actually meet in a place that public, I can promise to make sure I'm not there." That last was unexpectedly pointed, and Harry didn't understand why, but he was saved from replying when Flitwick called for attention.

As Ron was returning to his seat, Hermione spoke quickly and quietly, which did nothing to disguise her exasperation, "He won't be here over Christmas; you'll have lots of time to read all the books you want." Ron was whispering excitedly about his successful trade as he sat, so Harry couldn't be sure what she added after that, but it sounded like she muttered, "You're the only student in the school with an invisibility cloak, Harry, and I'm far too familiar with how you use it to be fooled by it."

* * *

Heading to the dungeons after Charms class on Tuesday morning, Harry hoped he'd be able to find enough of the fabled Gryffindor courage to bring himself to broach the subject of his professor's upcoming fealty pledge.

He would be glad when the ritual was finished. He hadn't realized he'd grown accustomed to _not_dreading the walk to Professor Snape's office until this whole thing started. Now, it felt like every time he came down he was filled with trepidation. He missed the lack of it.

Wondering how long it would be before his life would return to normal, or something that could pass for it, since 'normal' had been redefined several times since his introduction to the wizarding world, he braced himself before knocking and, determined, entered when bid. It took only a few steps to bring him to the desk opposite his teacher, but that was more than enough time to recognize that the older man was in a strange mood. His expression wasn't angry, exactly, but serious and something that might have been disappointed. Harry debated whether he wanted to risk broaching the subject of the upcoming pledge regardless until his professor spoke, and the thought vanished.

"What is the current state of the bond?"

"It's steady." Harry swallowed. "There was a period early this morning - less than an hour - when it was tense, but it had settled by breakfast."

Professor Snape nodded, as though he were unsurprised, and it made Harry nervous. "When you were speaking with Draco in my office yesterday, you began a movement and aborted it; what were you intending to do?"

"I was just going to put my hand on his shoulder," Harry replied defensively. The question had been deliberately mild, curious rather than accusatory, but that didn't stop him from reacting as though it were the latter.

"To what end?"

_If Snape doesn't know, he's even more an outsider than I was at the Dursleys_. If he did, Harry hoped he was asking out of more than a desire to see Harry squirm. He considered pretending he didn't understand what his professor was talking about, but decided that Snape was tenacious enough to pursue it, no matter how uncomfortable the conversation got, and that would be far more embarrassing for both of them, so Harry answered, awkwardly, as emotionlessly as possible, "Ron does that sometimes; it was just a... gesture of support." He was proud of the neutrality he achieved, at least until his professor's pointed response.

"Then why did you stop?"

_I don't know; why _would _Harry Potter catch himself before touching Draco Malfoy?_Sarcasm, no matter how satisfying, would not be conducive, so he tried to think of a way to express his reasoning. "It seemed too private, too personal. Intrusive."

Professor Snape nodded as though that was the answer he'd expected. "I am afraid, given the situation, you don't have time for that. _Fidelitās_ _Dominō_is easily summarized as the joining of two people symbolising two cultures too caught up in history and vengeance to be able to communicate neutrally. In practice, however, it was created as a diplomatic tool and is not simply representational: it is a physical embodiment. Given that it is intended to demonstrate that harmony between the families is possible and to serve as a catalyst, it requires that the bonded pair succeed, and quickly. In artificially expediting the process, relationships are not permitted to evolve naturally. Instead, social and emotional roles are dictated from the onset by the bond with the tools available."

He looked at Harry for a long moment before asking, "Have you considered what you will expect from Draco?"

Uncertain what he meant, exactly, Harry replied cautiously, "I gave him back the badges."

The answer didn't seem to be a surprise, so Harry assumed he'd interpreted the professor's hints correctly, though apparently not his question.

"Your partner, your friend, your employee, your pet — what you are willing to let him be is up to you, but he's _yours_. You have to accept that, or all of this will have been for nothing. Do you understand that?" Professor Snape asked gravely.

Harry nodded uncomfortably in acknowledgement of the question. The first bit had probably been rhetorical, but Harry considered it anyway. He wanted a friend... but something more than that — a brother, sort of. A partner, definitely. "_Family_." He heard himself speaking and realized he'd said that last aloud. "But how?" he asked, pushing aside his embarrassment, "I mean, it can't be as simple as asking."

Harry imagined himself having that conversation with Draco and grimaced, reconsidering his use of the word 'simple.'

"Indeed." His professor's eyes twinkled with amusement. Harry was proud that he'd managed it, that he'd recognized it. He hoped to manage both more frequently in the future.

"Clearly, your own home was lacking, but you must have spent time with more fitting examples." He spoke not emotionlessly but in an even way that Harry had never heard from Snape.

The Weasleys were the best family he could imagine, and he thought about what made them so enviable. He pictured them, at the Burrow, of course, because the house was as much a part of the family as the rest. Considering the memories, he was struck by their physicality with each other — the hugs, the roughhousing, their comfort in and freedom with each other in affection and reprimand alike; by Percy, who was rarely touched by any of them but Molly and obviously the outsider; by Fleur, viewed with suspicion at first, but nearly smothered in hugs when the engagement was announced. Unbidden, his mind called forth memories of Petunia and Vernon fawning over Dudley, rarely touching Harry and never with affection. He thought of the Gryffindor common room, of Sirius, fleetingly, and of Remus a few days ago, and he knew why Professor Snape had mentioned the 'aborted gesture.'

Professor Snape nodded when he looked up. "No matter how much things have improved in the past year, you and Draco have too much negative history for this situation to be considered ideal, and time, of course, is one thing you have in limited quantity. He will need reassurance." He stared at a shelf of jars for several moments before turning back to Harry. "Trust, openness — these are not easy, nor are they instinctive for either of you."

Harry, considering Professor Snape and Remus, silently amended that observation to '_any of us_.'

"Matters are made more difficult by the fact that your vectigal is a Malfoy: he has been trained in manipulating language and finding loopholes since before he could speak. To assuage his fear will be impossible to accomplish with words alone."

Harry tried not to feel daunted. "Then how?"

"Contact, particularly repeated actions that are comforting or gentle rather than harsh or painful, will act as positive reinforcement, accentuating the differences between your past rivalry and your future relationship and mitigate the transition." He sounded more like Remus than Harry would have imagined could be possible.

Harry thought about Draco, with whom he'd had the occasional scuffle, but their most severe confrontations had been fought with words or wands. Professor Snape seemed to follow his line of thought.

"To your benefit, the lack of touch between you in the past can be used to your advantage, especially as the Malfoys are not physically affectionate parents. Establishing patterns of behaviour that clearly delineate the differences between his old life and his new will ease the transition."

Harry had a sudden image of the nature shows that Petunia liked to watch so she could drop into conversation the fact that she had, shows that Vernon and Dudley tolerated, hoping for blood and carnage.

"It sounds like domesticating a wild animal."

"Were Draco bound to the Dark Lord as his father intended, your comparison would be more apt than you realize. If the vectigal refuses or is unable to learn to please his master quickly enough, there would be no personality change per se, but the more the vectigal fights his bonded, the more his magic and eventually his life force are drained until he becomes very dependent upon his Dominus."

Remembering that the schedule Voldemort intended to follow had a training period of mere hours, Harry had to suppress a shudder.

"I trust you will do better by him."

Professor Snape's even, steady gaze seemed to demand a response, and Harry nodded earnestly. He wasn't quite sure how he was going to manage to do that, but when he had an idea, he could come back and make sure that it wasn't stupid.

"This is one instance when improvisation is likely to be disastrous, not only for Draco but for you as well." Harry was nearly distracted by the implication that _Professor Snape_believed there were situations in which it might not be, but his next words brought Harry abruptly back on topic. "Regardless of his experience or lack thereof, any caretaker will make mistakes. In your situation, it is vital that you ensure that your bond — that your relationship with your bonded — is secure enough that those mistakes don't have devastating repercussions."

Professor Snape was obviously uncomfortable, but he continued, regardless, underscoring the importance of what he was saying. "With knowledge of a desired outcome, you will be able to help Draco anticipate your expectations. For him to succeed, however, consistent behaviour is vitally important. Without it, he'll be uncertain and wonder, expecting, however unconsciously, you to react as his father would have." His mouth twisted into a humourless smile. "However impossible they may have been, Lucius Malfoy was _very_clear in his expectations and clear in both praise and reprimand."

Harry grimaced. "I don't want to be anything like Lucius Malfoy."

"That's your right, of course," Professor Snape agreed, far too mildly, before his tone hardened, "but your behaviour this term suggests you have finally come to understand the dangers inherent in making judgements based on sweeping generalizations, and you've professed a desire to aid your dominus as much as you can … . Draco is accustomed to clarity, and not everything 'Malfoy' is evil." His expression softened, just slightly.

"There is an element of fear present in trusting your entire being to the care of another. Depending on the age and experience of the individual, it can be as mild as uncertainty or as severe as terror. So too, is there fear in becoming responsible for another, be it a parent for child, teacher for student, a _dominus_ for a _vectigal_."

Harry hadn't thought of it that way before, the similarity between what he was feeling in this situation and the fear he'd felt when they'd first began the DA. Apart from the general tension of that year, Umbridge and the need to be secretive, there'd been the fear of someone getting hurt. The first lesson on Stunning Spell had been daunting, even before he'd witnessed the attack on McGonagall and learned how much harm they could do. Harry hadn't considered his teachers might feel the same anxiety; given the danger of their subjects, he realized a probable reason why Snape and McGonagall were so strict.

Unaware of Harry's sudden empathetic epiphany, his professor continued his explanation.

"That fear is protracted by the power dynamic of the bond, which reinforces the vectigal's submission." He stared at Harry, dark eyes piercing and intense. "Fear and power are powerful weapons, given to the dominus to see if he takes advantage of it, if he is worthy of the trust he has been given. It is your choice to use them on Draco's behalf or your own."

While Professor Snape turned to his cupboard to retrieve a stack of parchment, Harry took the opportunity to glance at his watch. Not nearly as much time had passed as he'd hoped. When he noticed the professor had retrieved Draco's financial records, he found himself in the astounding position of wishing they actually were having an Occlumency lesson, even one of the fifth year lessons. Almost.

"I took the liberty of sorting through the records in advance. A number are the same or similar enough to the Potter portfolio — investments, endowments, Hogwarts scholarships, etcetera. The majority will have far more in common with the Black estate, though given how thoroughly it was scrutinized in the fight between the Ministry and the Malfoys, I'd be surprised if any of the truly creative accounts made their way to you." He separated a portion of the records from the others.

"The likeliest investments to contain the sort of traps we're concerned about are these. Each of them is a highly unlikely candidate for Lucius Malfoy's support, and in most cases have higher than expected expenses with dubious justifications. They are likely to be hiding illegal activities that if uncontested after the bonding would reflect on you as Draco's master, not Lucius Malfoy."

He looked up and caught Harry staring at him blankly. "Is there a problem?"

Harry didn't like any of his options when it came to answering that question, but he knew that the truth would make Snape angry for the least amount of time. "I don't understand?"

"What do you mean you—" he cut himself off as realization dawned. "Has no one discussed your financial estate with you?"

Harry shook his head.

"You're seventeen! You've been of age for months and heir apparent for years prior!" He turned to the book cases, selecting texts and rejecting others, muttering all the while. "A Potter! James and m-his cousins were taught this before they were of Hogwarts age!"

Harry might have let Snape continue — listening to him railing _about_ Harry rather than _at_him made the tirade almost funny but that last bit of information was too important. "Cousins?" he interrupted.

Professor Snape froze, then slowly put books down on the desk before replying. "Yes."

"Professor McGonagall mentioned other relatives," Harry offered tentatively, "Were they...?"

"Your great uncle and his wife died in same accident that killed your grandparents, their daughters a few months later."

"How?" Harry asked tentatively. It had likely been a deliberate omission, and the answer was probably unpleasant, but he needed to know.

He looked at Harry for a long time before replying, "They were kidnapped by Death Eaters."

The difficulty he had biting out even that much was obvious, but Harry risked a final question. "Did you..." _do it_"...know them?"

"Yes."

He had the strangest certainty that Snape was answering the question Harry _hadn't_ asked.


End file.
